


Lost Souls and Amber Eyes

by thanku4urlove



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Animal Transformation, Blood and Injury, But those are the most important, Cats, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Kim Mingyu/Yoon Jeonghan, Minor Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK, Possession, Protectiveness, Sorcerers, Souls, the other members are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanku4urlove/pseuds/thanku4urlove
Summary: Cats are guardians against evil spirits. Unable to use magic, Wonwoo depends on the cats in his care to keep him safe and protect him from harm. One morning, he wakes to find all the cats in his town to have gone missing. All of them, except a large tawny tabby named Jun.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 21
Kudos: 159
Collections: SVT Fear Exchange





	Lost Souls and Amber Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whaleonthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleonthemoon/gifts).



> Hello recipient! I hope you enjoy the fic!!
> 
> The themes aren't extremely dark, but do please heed the violence warning! also, since it only happens once I didn't add it to the main tags, but these is a scene near the end of an animal being injured! it's not very long and it's not graphic, but it does happen.

Wonwoo woke up just before the sun rose. He didn’t love getting up so early, but he’d done it for so long now that his body was used to it, so he didn’t really hate it, either. Besides, it was good to get the day going sooner; he had lots of mouths to feed, and it was better to hurry on breakfast than to make those little mouths wait. His friends could get rather impatient, attacking his hair with their little teeth or climbing up his legs with their keen-edged claws.

He had a soft but heavy weight settled comfortably on his chest, and didn’t need to look to see who it was.

“Jun,” he murmured into the darkness of the room. “Get off. I need to get up.” 

In response to his words a deep rumble started, and Wonwoo felt the familiar prickle of claws gently kneading against his skin. He sighed, lifting his head up a bit. He could just barely make out the purring mass of tawny fur that was resting resolutely on his ribcage. 

“I’m serious.” Wonwoo said again, as though the cat could actually understand him. His friend Jihoon often laughed at him for talking to cats like they were people, but Jihoon’s husband Seokmin was half-convinced that the cats could actually understand Wonwoo. They couldn’t, Wonwoo knew. Or if they did, they liked to ignore him. But Wonwoo really did need to get up. All of the cats in the sanctuary rose with the sun, and it took them less than five minutes to make their way to Wonwoo’s bedroom and begin pawing at his face in demand for food. 

Wonwoo reached down to touch Jun’s head. Jun’s sleepy purring was interrupted by a melodic chirp at the touch of Wonwoo’s hand, and Wonwoo scratched him behind the ears. He hoped the petting would wake Jun up--he always felt bad about forcing cats off his lap when they were sleeping, or when they decided they wanted to cuddle--but it did no such thing; when Wonwoo tried to sit up, he felt Jun’s claws dig petulantly into the fabric of his shirt. 

Trying to get out of bed had Wonwoo understanding Jun’s reluctance, though. It had been autumn for a full month now, but the weather had stayed mild and warm. The only indications of change had been a cooler breeze, and a few of the trees had started to let their leaves change early. But a chill seemed to have come in overnight, the morning air clear with a bite of cold. All of the cats had felt the cold too, sneaking into his bedroom as he’d slept; his mattress was heavy with them, pressing in on Wonwoo on all sides for warmth like a breathing, multicolored blanket.

The first pale streaks of sun began streaming through Wonwoo’s bedroom window, and Wonwoo looked out, petting Jun absently. He had to get up, whether Jun liked it or not. 

“I’m going to sit up now,” Wonwoo told him again, one last warning, but looking at Jun told Wonwoo that his eyes were still closed, his hair twitching as Wonwoo ran a hand all the way down his back. Jun was a beautiful cat, the largest brown tabby that Wonwoo had ever encountered, with little pointed tufts of hair on the tops of his ears. Wrapping an arm around him, feeling Jun’s claws still stuck in his shirt, Wonwoo got up with the cat pressed to his chest and began walking towards his closet.

Jun didn’t quite like being picked up like that--not many cats did--and was definitely wide awake now. He blinked up at Wonwoo with his big amber eyes and began wriggling in Wonwoo’s arms, so Wonwoo let him go, Jun’s paws near-silent as they hit the wooden floor. Then he walked from Wonwoo’s bedroom, and after tugging on a red woolen sweater, Wonwoo followed him out.

Getting out of bed had Wonwoo truly feeling the cold, the change in temperature from the warmth under his blankets sending a wracking shiver down his spine. He drew his arms in towards his chest, hoping it was just the sudden lack of warmth and sudden change from lying down to standing that had slight pressure--a pressure that could very easily turn into a headache--gathering behind his eyes. Chills and a headache were common signs of impending illness for him, and he really hoped he wasn’t getting sick again. 

Wonwoo getting out of bed woke the rest of the cats too, and many of them began making noises in his direction, from eager purring to full, long yeowls. 

“I’m starting breakfast!” Wonwoo insisted, still able to laugh a little as his legs were rubbed on all sides by small furry bodies, the cats arching their backs, looking up at him eagerly. The first order of business was to let Jun outside though, Wonwoo opening the door quickly, Jun walking out into the morning and down the road. 

Wonwoo was glad that Jun didn’t stay for breakfast, because he had a sneaking suspicion that despite staying in Wonwoo’s bedroom overnight, the cat already had an owner of his own. 

For one, he had a collar. It was made from a beautiful green fabric, knotted around his neck with a small opaque stone set in the center. But that wasn’t a fool-proof way to tell; a couple of the cats that Wonwoo took care of had collars too, and had been abandoned by their previous owners. But Wonwoo had followed Jun once after he’d left in the morning, curious about how such a magnificent cat had simply appeared in the neighborhood and Wonwoo had never seen him before. He’d been led to a small house, the door opening when Jun pawed at it, and a voice inside floated out. It was how Wonwoo had learned that Jun had a name.

“You’re back early, Jun.” 

Wonwoo had knocked on the door when it was a more socially acceptable hour to be visiting people, but the man behind the door--Xu Minghao--had insisted that he didn’t own any pets. Maybe Jun was just a migrant cat, floating around from house to house through town. That felt a bit unlikely, with how Wonwoo never saw him out and about during the day. Either way, Jun was well fed, and Wonwoo was happy to use the food he had on cats that depended solely on him, cats that truly needed it.

“I’m getting started,” Wonwoo insisted again, because a grey tabby at his feet had stretched up on her hind legs to meow emphatically at him. He lit the stove, hearing the gas click before it caught and burst into flame, and began warming a pan, pulling eggs from the basket on his counter and cracking a number of them into a large bowl, whisking the insides together with chopsticks. Once the eggs had been cooked, he mixed in the dried fish he’d caught the day before, separating the food into two large bowls, then cooking some eggs of his own as he waited for the cats’ food to cool. When it reached a safe temperature, he put the big bowls down on opposite sides of the kitchen, pulling himself up to sit on the wooden countertop to eat his own breakfast as the cats ate theirs.

Wonwoo had transformed his house into a cat sanctuary, and had roughly twenty animals that he took care of full time. It was fulfilling work that Wonwoo loved, something he sometimes had to remind himself of when shedding season started and there were hairballs everywhere. He also cared for the strays around town, making sure they stayed fed and healthy. Summer was always the busiest, the house full of newborn kittens, which Wonwoo looked after until they were old enough and adopted out to interested people around town. 

As it was now, he only had one kitten, a rambunctious orange tabby boy that had been brought to him rather tearfully by a group of kids who claimed to have found it. The kitten had been quite sick, both his eyes swollen closed with infection, sneezing and fast breathing indicating he also had a respiratory infection. Wonwoo had to keep the kitten in his bedroom with the door closed to keep any of his other cats from getting sick, despite Jun somehow sneaking in every night, even after Wonwoo had installed a lock. 

The kitten had bounced back quickly with proper treatment, and was now a boisterous part of the pack. Usually, Wonwoo would set aside a smaller bowl for any kittens during mealtime, knowing they needed the proper nutrients the most and not wanting them to have to fight the bigger, stronger cats to get enough food. This kitten had proved very quickly that special treatment wasn’t necessary; he was ready and willing to scramble his way to the bowl and stick his entire face into it. It was cute, and Wonwoo knew that when this little boy was adopted, he would take very good care of the family that he was chosen by. 

Cats took care of their people, and Wonwoo didn’t think that just because he liked them. It was a known, proven thing; cats guarded the places that they considered to be their own. Aside from teeth and claws, they could defend against evil spirits. 

The overwhelming majority of people could do casual magic. Most people had enough power in their bodies to do simple spells, things to make their lives easier, or to keep themselves and their houses safe. And a little protection was necessary, something to keep needless bad luck or wandering bad spirits at bay; most people that didn’t have magic depended on charms or amulets to safeguard themselves. However, most protective amulets were made with cat hair or cat claws, because cats themselves held protective properties. 

Wonwoo couldn’t use magic at all. He didn’t know why he had such a deficiency; his parents were both very capable in charms and potions, and Wonwoo could remember a time in his childhood when he’d been able to do a few very simple things. He couldn’t now, though, and hadn’t been able to in his teenage years, either. Somewhere in his childhood, he’d run into a blockage. Something was wrong, something that no medical or magical explanation had been found for, but over the years, Wonwoo had found himself just letting it go. His parents had gotten him a pair of cats as pets to grow up with, to watch over him, and he’d loved them wholeheartedly. Now, his pack of twenty cats were his safety of choice. 

Once the cats had finished breakfast Wonwoo scrubbed the bowls clean, making another fresh batch of food. Then he boxed it up and wrapped the box in a cloth, splashing water on his face and getting fully dressed for the day. The sun had risen a bit more now, but the chill was still in the air; the sunshine felt pale and thin, Wonwoo pulling his sweater a little tighter around himself as he set out to look after his strays.

Even the trees had felt the new cold; Wonwoo hadn’t known that leaves could change so quickly, but the ground was littered with yellows, oranges, reds, and browns. They were too newly fallen to crunch under his feet, his footfalls quiet as he made his way to his first little hidden away place. 

Most of the strays he took care of lived in the woods. Wonwoo’s town was surrounded by trees on all sides, just one beaten dirt path leading in and out, and as a result, the whole place had a calm, secluded feel to it. These cats were self-sustaining, Wonwoo using the food as a way to gain their trust, a way to get close to them, to pet them, to be able to take care of them if he noticed they were sick or injured. Thankfully, it worked; he had managed to win all of them over, even the skittish ones and grouchy ones. Wonwoo had yet to meet a cat that wouldn’t let him pet it. 

He’d reached the first group of strays, seeing their small, furry bodies through the trees. A calico noticed him approach and chirruped at him, getting up on her hind legs to press her head into his open hand. 

“Good morning!” he told her, her reaction to seeing him making him smile, and his voice drew the other cats close. They were a little group of five, and he put food down for them, looking over them as they ate. He checked each of them, making sure they looked healthy, running his hand down their backs to feel for bumps or scabs. It was the routine he went through every morning, and on his way back home he walked through town instead of around the outskirts, waving and greeting people that wished him a good morning, everyone and everything around him starting to wake up. Wonwoo was feeling more and more tired though, the drag in his limbs urging him to get back home and take a quick nap, already mentally mapping out the idea when a shout stopped him.

“Wonwoo! How are you?” 

Wonwoo recognized the bright voice immediately, finding a smile on his face as he turned. Seokmin had just stepped outside, and was beaming at him. He looked like he was wearing what he’d slept in, his pants and shirt--though both long--were loose on him, and the fabric looked thin. Wonwoo had no idea how he wasn’t cold. 

The answer may have been extra body heat; it took a moment of actually looking at Seokmin for Wonwoo to realize that he had arms around his waist. Jihoon was outside as well, but didn’t quite look awake yet, his sleepy face pressed into his husband’s broad back. 

“Seokmin, Jihoon, good morning,” Wonwoo greeted, coming to a stop. Though most of the people in town were nice, there was something special about Seokmin, and Wonwoo genuinely considered the couple to be his friends. “I’m doing well; how are all of you?”

“We wanted to catch you.” Jihoon’s voice was a mumble, and he poked his head around Seokmin’s shoulder. “Something’s wrong with Hoshi.” 

“What?” Wonwoo asked, coming to a quick stop and suddenly feeling much more awake. “What happened?” 

“He’s limping,” Seokmin said, a worried frown on his face. “He won’t let us touch his paw. We don’t know what’s wrong with him.” 

“Is he bleeding anywhere?” Wonwoo asked. “Could I see him?” 

“We were hoping you would say that,” Jihoon said. “C’mon in.” 

Seokmin was a skilled magic user, a sorcerer in every sense of the word except for an official certification. Jihoon was a well practiced craftsman, and together they ran a shop where they created and repaired magical amulets. They lived above the store, and owned two cats--a orange tabby named Hoshi, that Seokmin affectionately called a tiger, and Jihoon insisted was just a kitty, and Shua, a tuxedo named after just how quickly he could rush away when Hoshi was playfully chasing him. They’d been cute kittens when the couple had adopted them from Wonwoo two years ago, and they had grown up well; it was nice to check up on them, nice to be able to watch them get older. 

Sure enough, Hoshi was limping. He wasn’t letting any weight onto his right front paw, but that didn’t stop him from hopping up to them with enthusiasm, still able to recognize Wonwoo despite the passage of time, rubbing against his leg, and Wonwoo smiled at him. Hoshi’s rumbling purr was one of the loudest from any cat Wonwoo had ever met. Shua was resting on the couch, his front paws crossed, watching them. 

“Hi there!” Wonwoo said, crouching down to pet him, Hoshi giving a loud meow back. “I heard you hurt yourself. Can I look at it?” 

He reached for the injured paw, but as Seokmin had said, Hoshi retreated quickly. 

“I need to look at it,” Wonwoo told them. “Could one of you scruff him for me?”

Between the three of them--and Seokmin running off to retrieve a pair of tweezers while Jihoon struggled to hold a dramatically yeowling Hoshi still--they managed to remove a wooden splinter from Hoshi’s paw. It was a small thing, and the couple had no idea where it could have come from, but were determined to find out. Seokmin retrieved a necklace from their bedroom, the piece of jewelry bulky; it was a red glass sphere on a thick silver chain, a clasp on one side for the necklace--a locket, Wonwoo realized--to open. Seokmin took the splinter carefully from Jihoon’s palm and placed it inside, then closed his eyes.

“...What is he doing?” Wonwoo asked. 

“It’s a tracking device,” Jihoon explained. Now that Hoshi was no longer convinced that they were doing something awful to him--and probably realizing that his paw felt better--he had curled himself comfortably in Jihoon’s arms, purring loudly and rubbing his face against Jihoon’s chin, his eyes closed in contentment. Jihoon was simply letting him, his expression unchanged, suggesting that he was used to near-annoying attention like this from Hoshi. “We made it after we adopted these two, in case they ever got lost, because all it would need is a bit of cat hair.”

Seokmin opened his eyes and began to walk with purpose, Jihoon and Wonwoo following him. The path to answers was a short one; the leg of the wooden dining room table looked shredded on one side.

“You bad cat!” Jihoon exclaimed at the kitty he was holding. Hoshi seemed to realize the jig was up, jumping from Jihoon’s arms and running across the living room, leaping wildly onto the couch and barrelling into an unsuspecting Shua, who startled and jumped about three feet in the air. “I--I  _ heard  _ you last night--you have a scratching post! Don’t touch the furniture!” 

Jihoon stomped after the guilty cats, who scattered in opposite directions, while Seokmin began to laugh. 

“I can fix it,” Seokmin assured him, and Jihoon turned to him with a frown.

“It’s not about that. It’s about their behavior,” he insisted, a natural sort of pout to his voice. “I made that table.” 

Seokmin laughed again, his expression painfully fond, walking over to give his husband a squeezing hug. 

“I’m glad I could help,” Wonwoo said, deciding he would extricate himself from the situation before he overstayed his welcome. His desire to take a nap was also creeping back up on him, and his bed was only a few streets away.

“It was really nice to see you!” Seokmin exclaimed, and together the three of them descended the stairs into the shop. “We need to have a meal sometime! It would be fun.” 

Agreeing that it would be and genuinely meaning it, Wonwoo bid them a good day and continued home. The rest of his day was spent simply. He tried lying on the couch to rest, but sleep wouldn’t come, blaming his cats for energizing him with their presence as the failed nap passed him by and he decided to get up again. He had a small, self-sustaining farm he tended to, and while he didn’t eat fish himself, he spent the afternoon catching them, saving some for his cats and exchanging the rest of the fresh seafood for fresh eggs from a woman that lived in town. He had to cut his fishing trip short as the exhaustion washed through him again, this time coming with the beginnings of a sore throat, Wonwoo beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was getting sick after all.

He cleaned up around his house, brushing the cats that would put up with it, and when the first streaks of sunset started to color the sky, he began on dinner for everyone. He fed his cats first, then made his rounds across town again, wishing everyone a good night this time and making it back home just as the sun sank below the horizon. And, as he had been for the past couple of weeks, Jun was sitting at his front door when he returned, patiently waiting to be let in. 

“Good evening,” Wonwoo greeted, getting a slow blink in response. “Are you ready for bed?” 

Jun got to his feet, arching his back as he stretched, then looked patiently between Wonwoo and the closed front door, his amber eyes bright despite the gathering dusk outside, and they entered Wonwoo’s house together. 

Wonwoo decided to sleep in a full set of pajamas, figuring that it was unlikely for him to be cold if his cats all curled around him like they had the night before, but still not wanting to risk it. He felt a slight shake in his hands as he got into bed that night, his hands and feet even colder than they usually were, but Wonwoo just blamed it on poor circulation as he crawled under his bedsheets.

Jun crossed the mattress slowly before getting up onto Wonwoo’s chest, nestling there resolutely, seemingly with purpose. Jun was large, fluffy but heavy too, and Wonwoo often had the thought that the weight should feel suffocating. Curiously, it was almost as though Wonwoo could breathe a bit easier once Jun had settled himself down and begun to purr. Cats weren’t only protectors; they were healers too, and that was the only explanation Wonwoo could think of for the comfort he felt as he drifted off to sleep. 

Wonwoo woke up freezing. It was still dark, as it was every morning, but he didn’t want to open his eyes yet; he truly felt feverish now, cursing under his breath and rolling onto his side, trying to pull his blankets closer around him. His movement dislodged Jun from his chest, but Wonwoo didn’t want him to go, wrapping his arms around the fuzzy bundle of warmth and pulling him close. Cats didn’t like to be squeezed like this, not in Wonwoo’s experience, but Jun simply let him, beginning to purr, the sound loud in Wonwoo’s ear with the way Jun’s head was now resting against Wonwoo’s neck. 

Despite how badly he felt, Wonwoo knew he needed to get up. He needed to make breakfast. He needed to get out of bed--he could just put on extra clothes, that would warm him up, even if the chill felt more internal than external--he needed to let Jun out, he needed to check on his strays. He couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly felt wrong with him, his body cold and his chest tight, knowing he needed stop by Seungkwan’s shop once all the kitties were taken care of and see about a diagnosis and some medication. 

It wasn’t until Wonwoo opened his eyes that he noticed something strange. His bed was completely empty. 

The night before, with the decrease in temperature, all of the cats in the house had crowded around Wonwoo in the night, pressing in on all sides, seeking warmth from him and each other. His bedroom door was open now, but there were no cats in his room except for Jun. That was unusual, even when it wasn’t cold; a number of the kitties had claimed his bed as their own, and there were always at least a couple that slept on the blankets with him. Now it was just Jun, blinking up at him, a shiver wracking Wonwoo’s body as he got to his feet. The house was eerily quiet. 

Jun hopped from the bed with him, but didn’t go for the door like usual, staying by his feet instead. Wonwoo, something in his gut twisting, walked out into the living room. The sight was equal parts expected and unbelievable--because it wasn’t just quiet, it was  _ too  _ quiet--entering a room that was completely empty. It only took a few minutes to confirm Wonwoo’s fears, entering each room at a time, peeking in cabinets and opening closets.

_ The entire house was completely empty. _

Fear and confusion were at war in Wonwoo’s chest. He didn’t--he didn’t know what to do, simply turning on the spot a couple of times, swallowing hard and looking around. His head was pounding. He had to still be asleep. This was a fever dream. His cats couldn’t just be  _ gone. _

He made them breakfast anyway. Even Jun--who, inexplicably, was still sitting by his side, silent and still, eyes always on him--didn’t eat it, so Wonwoo left a bowl outside his front door, packing up the second bowl to take with him as he went to check on his strays. 

Every spot that the cats usually gathered in to greet him was empty too. Wonwoo sat at each of them, waiting, walking into the trees a bit to search and calling out, but it was almost as though the cats had never been there at all. Somehow, it was both more and less unnerving at the same time; in his house, at the very least, there was still uncleaned cat hair lying around. 

He left some food in each place too, just in case. The whole time, Jun stayed by his side. His companionship just added to the strange behavior, but Wonwoo was grateful not to be completely alone. Another shiver wracked his body as he started through town, and he bent to pick Jun up, surprised all over again when the cat let Wonwoo hold him close. He pressed Jun into his chest, trying to get that feeling back, that safety and comfort of Jun resting on him like when he drifted off to sleep. It did help a little, Wonwoo beginning to feel a bit better until Seokmin burst out of his storefront and grabbed Wonwoo by the shoulder. 

He looked panicked. He looked awful. Wonwoo’s heart sank. 

“Have you seen them?”

“Who?” Wonwoo asked back, because he didn’t want to assume he knew. Or, more accurately, he didn’t want the assumption he already had to be correct. 

“Hoshi and Shua. They’re--they’re gone.” There were tears gathering in the corners of Seokmin’s eyes. “They usually sleep in bed with us, but they didn’t want to last night. They were being… Strange, I don’t know. Really restless. It kept us awake. Eventually Jihoon let them have full reign of the downstairs shop as well, but I--I’m such an idiot, I must have left a window open or something, I don’t know how--”

“You’re not an idiot.” Wonwoo said softly, and Seokmin’s face screwed up more, covering his face with his hands. 

“Even when they’ve gotten out before, they’ve never run away. They usually stay by the door--Shua usually gets spooked and runs back inside. But we’ve searched everywhere. We were hoping that maybe, since they used to live with you…?”

Seokmin’s hopeful question trailed off, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, and Wonwoo shook his head.

“They’re not at my house,” he said. He considered telling Seokmin about what was happening at his house as well, but decided on waiting to bring it up; he didn’t want to frighten Seokmin more, not right now. “I’ll look for them though, okay?” 

Seokmin nodded a bit, but he was still staring at Wonwoo like Wonwoo had answers, and the last thing Wonwoo wanted was Seokmin being upset, so he continued.

“Just… Put something with their scent--or your scent--outside your house, and some food, and if they’re lost they’ll find their way back. That’s what helps the most,” Wonwoo told him. “And you and Jihoon have that necklace, right? If they’re not back by tomorrow, can’t you use that?” 

Seokmin swallowed a couple of times, nodding again. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. We will. Thanks.” Despite no tears falling, he wiped at his face and took a deep breath in. “We’re just worried about them,” he explained, something he didn’t need to explain at all. “They’re… They need someone to watch over them, you know?” 

“We’ll find them,” Wonwoo said, and he meant it.

Despite how sick he felt, Wonwoo spent the entire day searching. He discovered, through talking to people, that it wasn’t only his cats, Hoshi, and Shua that were missing; everyone in town had missing pets. One story was particularly concerning, a man saying that he’d let his cat out after it was scratching so wildly at the door that he was afraid it would injure itself. His cat had woken him up sometime in the dead of night, and he’d watched it run off into the woods. 

“Like he had to leave,” the man said. “He was so spooked. Fluffed up, eyes all big… I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Throughout the entire day, Jun never left his side. It was becoming unnerving almost, how constant his presence was, Wonwoo taking time to watch Jun, who simply sat and watched him back.

“Why you?” Wonwoo asked him. He couldn’t understand it. Since the beginning, with how suddenly and inexplicably Jun had inserted himself into Wonwoo’s life and daily schedule; Wonwoo thought he knew cats well, but he had never understood Jun. “Why are you the only one here? Do you know where the others went?”

Jun blinked back. 

Wonwoo made dinner as well, throwing out the untouched breakfast and replacing it. Jun actually ate some then, Wonwoo was glad to see, and Wonwoo made dinner for himself as well, just some soup, because between feeling ill and the worry--the concern and uneasiness had been so constant all day that it was threatening to strangle him now, as he looked over his empty living room--he didn’t think he could stomach anything heavier. He didn’t end up finishing his bowl. 

The idea of sleep seemed like an idiotic one. He felt truly awful with illness, his chest tight, his stomach turning over itself, his hands and feet cold, a strange pressure behind his eyes making his head feel like it might burst. He’d never, ever felt like this while sick; he’d had a few of these symptoms before, but never all of them at once. He knew he should go to sleep, should go lie down, but he went outside instead, sitting next to the bowl of food he’d put out and staring into the darkness. After a moment, Jun climbed into his lap. Absently, Wonwoo touched his hand to the top of Jun’s head, stroking lightly down his back. It was comforting, feeling the fur under his fingers, and he tried to breathe.

“Where are they, Jun?”

He couldn’t stay outside for long. It was too cold, he was too cold, and when one shiver was so violent that it nearly dislodged Jun, he gathered the cat in his arms again and went inside, all the way into his bedroom and to bed. Part of him felt that he would crash easily, with how heavy his limbs felt and how his eyelids were burning; part of him felt that he was much too anxious and concerned to sleep. 

The night was a strange mix of both. He tossed and turned, waking up covered in cold sweat, abdominal pains stabbing at him, knife-hot, shooting up through the base of his spine and into his ribs. Groaning, rolling, Wonwoo clutched at his sides and shoved his face into his pillow, feeling around to check that Jun was still there and squeezing his eyes shut. As soon as the sun was up, he had to visit Seungkwan. Something was horribly, horribly wrong with him. 

Moonlight was streaming directly through Wonwoo’s uncovered window when he fell out of bed. He was woken by a startled growl from Jun, his eyes opening just a second before his body hit the floor. It wasn’t that high of a fall but it still hurt, his shoulder connecting heavily with the wooden floor.

Before he could try to reorient himself, he slid backwards. It was like he was being dragged, being pulled, slamming hard against the wall of his bedroom. The back of his head hit first and stars burst behind his eyes, Wonwoo trying to get to his feet. His body felt cold all over, but his skin seemed hot to the touch, a mere few degrees away from blistering. 

Jun was on his bed, his fur standing him up to twice his usual size, his eyes narrowed as he hissed and spit in Wonwoo’s direction. Wonwoo tried to take a step, but he felt anchored against the wall now, his back stuck to it, fear welling in his chest. He couldn’t move.  _ He couldn’t move. _

His right hand began slamming against the wall. His arm was swinging at the elbow, his knuckles hitting hard, the sound echoing and sending a sting of pain all the way up his shoulder. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t make it stop, involuntary tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at the limb, watching it hit again and again until the skin across his knuckles burst. With a momentous effort he was able to turn his wrist, able to hit the wall with his palm instead, and with a slapping sound, the motion stopped. The arm didn’t even feel like his anymore, Wonwoo looking down at it, at the red wetness of his split knuckles glinting in the moonlight. 

He tried to pull his hand off the wall, wanting to inspect the limb, to cradle it, met with an inexplicable resistance. He tugged harder, and harder, and finally with what felt like an aching rip, his arm came free. He couldn’t help the hiss and inhale of pain, but in looking over his hand, the skin of his arm, wrist, and palm was still intact. Then he looked down at the wall where his hand had been, and his heart leapt into his throat. 

His shadow hadn’t moved, still stuck to the bloodied wall like his arm was still pressed there, black and dim. The shadow stayed still for just a moment before curling, inching up the wall, the shape of the arm curved unnaturally. Wonwoo wanted to get away, but the rest of him was just as stuck as his arm had been, and he couldn’t move his legs. He watched the shadow instead, Jun’s growling getting louder and louder. Then it came too close for Wonwoo to be able to see it from the corner of his eye and seconds later, Wonwoo felt cold, thin fingers wrap around the skin of his throat. 

He immediately couldn’t breathe. As soon as the fingertips pressed against his skin, the rest of his body became unstuck, and he crashed to his knees on the floor. He still couldn’t get away, though; he was being strangled, and the shadow seemed to have knelt with him. An arm, cold as ice, wrapped around his ribs and began to squeeze. 

Jun leapt from his bed, yeowling, jumping up and lashing out with his claws. He scratched at Wonwoo’s neck, and Wonwoo felt the sharp burn of the nails ripping through his skin. He didn’t care, because it seemed to work; the shadow left his neck and he heaved in an inhale, the air welcome in his chest. 

The shadow arm that was still around him clenched his chest so tightly that his breath hitched involuntarily, and Wonwoo could only breathe for a second more before the hand Jun had clawed through was back on him, the fingers climbing up his chin and plunging down his throat. He choked, gagging, his upper body bending forward involuntarily as he dry-heaved. He stumbled up off his knees, trying to get to his feet and swaying once he was upright, afraid of leaning against the wall in case his shadow trapped him against it again. 

He felt completely powerless, helpless and weak, the clog in his throat forcing tears to fill his eyes. He looked over to Jun, unable to think of how the cat could help him, but knowing he was the only thing that could possibly help at all. Wonwoo couldn’t escape. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even scream.

Jun was backing away, his eyes huge, the pupils so large they were almost completely black. Then the opal stone on his collar began to glow, the green silk of the collar unknotting, the strings expanding, knitting together and running across his body. The glow became too bright, too powerful to see through, the cat enveloped in a white light that shrouded him completely. It hurt Wonwoo’s eyes to look at, but he didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to close his eyes, afraid that he’d be unable to reopen them if he did. He watched the entire thing, but was still unable to believe it when instead of a cat, there was a man in a green robe kneeling on his bedroom floor. 

The man--Jun?--got to his feet, saying something Wonwoo couldn’t even hope to understand, thrusting his hand out in Wonwoo’s direction. White light shot from his palm, hitting Wonwoo straight in the chest, and Wonwoo  _ screamed.  _

His entire body felt as though it was burning from the inside out. He felt like he was being ripped apart, like a hole had just been punched through his chest, and he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything but pain, not realizing he’d been released by the shadow until after he’d fallen to his knees again. The stranger stooped to catch him, and Wonwoo just barely caught sight of the shadow flitting through the open doorway from his bedroom, something white gripped tightly in its palm and winding up its arm. 

“You’re okay.” The man’s voice was completely foreign. Wonwoo couldn’t feel anything, every nerve ending bright with a stinging pain, his body so weak that he was collapsed against the man. He tried to breathe, more involuntary tears falling down his face, and it wasn’t until he tried to speak that he realized he’d clenched his teeth so hard he’d bitten completely through the side of his tongue. 

“No I’m  _ not,”  _ he managed out, breathless and heaving, the scream having left his throat rough and raw. Speaking hurt. Breathing hurt.  _ Everything  _ hurt. Everything felt  _ wrong. _

“Can you stand?” the man asked. 

“Who--who are you?” Wonwoo asked back, and the man held Wonwoo under the arms, pulling him to his feet. Black spots dotted Wonwoo’s vision, and he felt that if his muscles weren’t so weak, he would have thrown up. 

“I’m Jun, aren’t I?” That wasn’t an answer, but the man didn’t elaborate. “Can you walk?” 

Wonwoo shook his head, both in disbelief and in answer. 

“Well, we need to get help. You’ll be okay.” The man kept saying that. With how sick and alone and ripped apart he felt, Wonwoo couldn’t find it in himself to believe it. “I have you. You’ll be okay.” 

They were halfway to Seungkwan’s when Wonwoo realized that the pain hadn’t stopped. Every nerve was still on fire, and his tongue stung, but the worst of all of it was in his chest; it felt as though there were a deep, gaping hole inside of him now. It was achingly cold, like Wonwoo could almost feel the chill of the night air passing through his sternum, in his lungs and between his ribs.

“What did you do to me?” he asked Jun. Jun was holding him up, was all but carrying him; Wonwoo had an arm across Jun’s broad back, and was lifting his knees as much as he could in the action of walking, but his heels were dragging the dirt below their feet. 

“What I had to do,” Jun answered. “I got that thing off of you. Out of you.” 

Wonwoo’s head hurt. He felt one head-tilt or misstep away from throwing up, and tried to spit some blood-thick saliva from his mouth, the metallic taste not helping his rolling stomach. It landed on his sweater. 

“I’m sorry,” Jun said, his voice soft this time. 

It was deep into the night, the near-full moon high in the sky, but when Jun knocked on the door to Seungkwan’s clinic, it swung open almost immediately. Vernon was standing at the threshold, and his eyes went wide. 

“Bring him in,” he said quickly, stepping aside, his voice rising to a yell. “Seungkwan! Chan! Emergency!” 

Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan were a lot on a normal day, when Wonwoo didn’t feel seconds from dying. But now he couldn’t walk, and was drooling blood, and the three of them were rushed and frantic, and it was all Wonwoo could do to hold onto consciousness.

“Vernon, just grab the whole bag. We need his shirt off.” Seungkwan’s voice was clipped and quick, attempted professionalism with an underlying thread of panic, and Chan got started on Wonwoo’s clothes immediately, pulling out a knife to rip at his sweater. Wonwoo couldn’t find it in himself to feel any kind of upset about the ruined clothes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move his arms to maneuver them off anyway. “What happened? What the hell happened to you?” 

“Possession,” Jun said, and Wonwoo struggled to look over at him, shocked. “Almost. I stopped it.”

“Seungkwan, what is that?” Chan’s voice was high in panic, and Wonwoo didn’t like that his exposed chest was what Chan was pointing at. “What’s happening to him?”

“His soul is fucking hemmoraging, that’s what,” Seungkwan responded, as Vernon burst back into the room, a large leather bag in hand. “He’s bleeding out. Sort of.” 

“Shit,” Wonwoo hissed, and Jun reached over and touched his hand. Wonwoo didn’t have enough wherewithal to decide if he even wanted the contact or not. “What--?” 

“Stop talking. Don’t move.” Seungkwan rolled his sleeves up, his mouth set in a line of determination. “This isn’t going to feel good.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” Wonwoo muttered through clenched teeth, angling his face towards the ceiling and closing his eyes. 

It was a couple of hours before Wonwoo had enough breath in his lungs to speak again. He was sitting up, had a poultice applied to the side of his tongue, and had been considerably cleaned up. He wasn’t wearing a shirt now, but he couldn’t; Vernon had found injuries that looked like burns all across his back, where he’d been stuck to the wall, and Seungkwan had applied a generous layer of some strange smelling salve to him, wanting Wonwoo to wait until the thick cream had dried and been scrubbed off to put clothes back on. Wonwoo tried to tell him that the pinkened skin didn’t hurt, but Seungkwan said the ointment wasn’t for pain.

“I just don’t want your skin to fall off,” he’d said. That had shut Wonwoo up for the next ten minutes.

He’d only cried twice while getting patched up, the pain of it one of the most intensely awful experiences he’d ever had, and he couldn’t tell if he should be proud or embarrassed by the number. One of those times, he’d reached out for Jun’s hand. He was still holding it now, their fingers tightly laced. Somehow, even stranger, Wonwoo didn’t want to let Jun go, feeling almost desperate for some kind of comfort. Jun didn’t seem to mind, so Wonwoo didn’t say anything about it. 

“You’re as fixed as I can make you,” Seungkwan declared, sitting heavily on a stool, leaning back against the wall. The sky outside the window had gone from black to navy blue. “For now, at least. You’ve got maybe… What, two months?” 

“Two to three,” Chan corrected. Seungkwan threw Chan a look. Vernon put a hand on each of their shoulders. 

Wonwoo still wasn’t quite sure of what had happened. He’d been too hurt and exhausted to even want an explanation, sure he wouldn’t be able to understand it. He wanted one now.

“What do you mean?” he asked Seungkwan. The bandage around his neck scratched at his skin a bit as he spoke. “Two months? What’s going to happen in two months?” 

“In two months, all of your blood will have run its course in your body. It will have replaced itself. That’s when you’ll finally die. You’ll probably be unconscious, though. Or unresponsive, at least.”

“You’re not being very comforting,” Chan chastised.

“I don’t care about comforting,” Wonwoo said quickly, unable not to notice how Jun’s hand tightened around his. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“Whatever attacked you had a really strong bond with you,” Seungkwan said. “It was actually visible, the marks it left; I could see the edges of it in that hole you got in your chest. It wasn’t something that snuck up and jumped you, Wonwoo; it had been inside of you for a long time. Something had been keeping it at bay until tonight.” 

Seungkwan promised that he’d closed the hole up when he’d stopped the hemorrhaging. Wonwoo was afraid to look under the bandage that was wrapped around his chest, already too nauseated to want an eyeful of the physical damage. Thankfully, he couldn’t remove the bandage for the next two weeks, and was supposed to be healed over by then. He was hoping it was something he would never have to see. 

“Whatever it was, it was in there deep,” Vernon said with a confirming nod. “It stuck itself in there at like, a spiritual level. It was so close that when it was banished, it tried to grab on, and it kind of just… Took your soul with it. Your soul isn’t in there anymore.”

At “there”, Vernon had simply pointed at Wonwoo. Wonwoo however, turned to Jun. 

“You--” he felt Jun’s fingers drum slightly against the top of his hand, Jun looking back at him with something almost akin to nerves on his face, “--you blasted  _ my soul  _ out of me?” 

“It’s good that he did,” Seungkwan said quickly. “That dark thing--its hold on you was too strong. It was really all or nothing; you wouldn’t have survived, otherwise. But umbralysis--shadow hemorrhaging--is a serious condition, Wonwoo. Usually, if it’s caught soon enough, there’s enough soul left, but… But your soul didn’t just leak out. It was stolen. It’s almost completely gone.”

“You’re saying ‘almost’, though. So why, the two months--” 

“The soul moves around the body,” Chan cut in quickly. “It’s stored in the chest, sure, but it’s carried throughout the bloodstream. So you have some of it left in your blood for now, but once all your blood is refreshed, then…” 

“You’re going to be really sick, Wonwoo,” Seungkwan said. He looked really and truly upset. “You’re going to be really sick for two months, and then you’re going to die. I’m so sorry.” 

Two months. Two months wasn’t very much time.

The diagnosis didn’t feel real. The whole situation felt straight out of a nightmare, Wonwoo sitting on a chair in Seungkwan’s healing shop, having just barely survived a possession attempt by a dark spirit that had apparently been held hostage inside of his body for years, holding hands with a man that he’d thought, just hours ago, was a strange but friendly cat.

A cat. Somehow, in that moment, his cats were all he could think about. Wonwoo felt himself hoping he wouldn’t be too sick. Not too sick to walk. Not too sick to search. Maybe he still had time to find them.

“This is because he doesn’t have his soul, right?” Jun asked, after a long moment. 

“A human can’t live without their soul,” Seungkwan affirmed with a nod.

“So if--if I found it, would you be able to put it back?” 

Seungkwan stared at him. “Found it?” he echoed. 

“Yeah. If I was able to--to go get it for him,” Jun said, nodding in Wonwoo’s direction. 

“Look at what that spirit did to Wonwoo!” Seungkwan exclaimed, still baffled. “And you want to go after it?” 

“Yes.”

Wonwoo tightened his grip on Jun’s hand. Something about it, about Jun’s completely steadfast tone had the ache in his chest stinging, and Wonwoo struggled himself to his feet. Everyone else in the room’s eyes went wide, both Jun and Chan getting up too and reaching out to him, in case he needed physical support to keep from falling over. Wonwoo turned to Jun. 

“Can we… Can I talk to you? Please?” 

“Here, here, you sit back down,” Seungkwan said quickly, grabbing Vernon’s shoulder with one hand and Chan’s arm with the other. “We’ll go.” 

They ushered themselves out quickly. Wonwoo had no doubt in his mind that they were eavesdropping somehow, but the idea of them hearing what he wanted to discuss was more tolerable than the mere thought of trying to walk outside at the moment, so he just sat back down. Jun was pointedly ignoring his eyes, though he made no move to let go of Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo squeezed it, and that got Jun’s attention.

“You’re human,” Wonwoo said. 

“Yeah.” Jun ducked his head a bit. “Sometimes.”

“Is your name actually Jun?”

Jun nodded. Then, “Kind of.”

Wonwoo let Jun’s hand go, drawing it away onto his own lap. 

“I’m asking for the truth from you,” he said, and Jun looked him in the eyes for a long moment. Then he let out a fast breath, jumped to his feet, and began pacing lengths back and forth across the room.

“I shouldn’t have--I mean I should have, but I didn’t think--I thought, at least that you--but--” He looked back at Wonwoo. Wonwoo stared at him. 

“...What?” 

“It’s a nickname.”

Wonwoo couldn’t tell if he’d missed a step in the conversation, or if Jun simply wasn’t making sense. Jun seemed to detect his confusion, and continued.

“Jun. It’s a nickname. My name is Wen Junhui.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo said. Junhui. Wen Junhui.

“I live here. In town, I mean.”

“You live here, but I’ve never met you?” 

Jun--Junhui?--was avoiding his eyes again. Part of Wonwoo wished he was still holding Junhui’s hand, because he couldn’t think of what to say to get his attention again, and wanted Junhui to keep talking.

“I… I moved here half a year ago. I should have said something to you. Or introduced myself, or--”

“Yeah. You should have,” Wonwoo agreed, and Junhui let out a fast breath. 

“I just--you made me nervous. For--for a couple of reasons.” Junhui glanced down at him for a moment before looking away again, and Wonwoo felt his pulse jump, unsure of what  _ that  _ was supposed to mean. “And then after that first night, it felt, I don’t know,  _ weird,  _ to be a person around you, so I kind of just… We almost ran into each other a couple of times.” 

“You were hiding from me?”

“Just a little.” 

“And why did you come to my house?” Wonwoo asked, knowing that was what Junhui had meant by “that first night”; the first evening that he’d shown up outside of Wonwoo’s front door as a cat, the first night he’d gotten in Wonwoo’s bed and settled himself on Wonwoo’s chest like he belonged there. “Why did you…” he trailed off, unsure if he could say “sleep with me” out loud like that. 

“As soon as I moved here, I could detect it,” Junhui said. His voice had gone all quick again. “I thought that you knew about it, and maybe that’s what the cats were for. That they were helping keep the spirit trapped. That it was being controlled. But then I could feel it getting stronger, and you weren’t doing anything to stop it. I got worried.” 

He was wringing his hands as he spoke, twisting his fingers together and not looking at Wonwoo. His voice was very quick.

“I decided to check,” he finally said, “and… Up close, it was worse than I thought. I tried to help the other cats, tried to help contain the spirit for you. And sleeping on you did help, for a while, resting directly on where it might try to burst free. But it fought its way through that protection too. I was helping, but not helping enough. The spirit was making you feel sick. It grew strong enough to spook the other cats.” 

“They--” Wonwoo swallowed hard. The scratches on his neck burned at the action. “They were running from me? All of them? Because they were afraid of me?” 

After a moment of staring at him, Junhui just nodded. 

“With all that protection gone, I was worried something would happen. Something was bound to happen. And then…” He gestured vaguely at Wonwoo’s entire body. “It did.” 

The guilt and horror Wonwoo felt was awful. This was his fault. Because of him, his cats, the animals he’d promised to protect, had all run off. Somehow, he’d been harbouring a monster.

“We have to get them back,” he said desperately, looking to Junhui. “They need me. They need to be cared for. What if they get sick or? Or hurt? I--”

He was too worked up, letting out a cough that set his chest on fire with pain, clutching at it and gasping. Junhui knelt in front of him in concern, his eyes trailing over Wonwoo’s face. 

“We will,” he said. “I’ll help you, I promise, but… You need your soul back first. Let me save you, and then we’ll get your cats back.” 

“I don’t know how to perform a soul transplant.” Seungkwan was walking back into the room. As Wonwoo had suspected, he’d been eavesdropping. “It’s extremely complicated to do properly, even when it’s someone’s own soul, and Wonwoo, with how twisted up your chest was… It looked like it had been seriously mangled.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“I’m not giving up, though.” The determined set to Seungkwan’s mouth was back. “I’ll look around. I’ll send out some messages. Someone out there  _ is  _ able to do it, I’m sure. I’ll find them for you.” 

“Thank you,” Junhui said, Wonwoo glancing over at him. Seungkwan was fully frowning at Junhui now. 

“You’ll still need to find his soul. And get it back. With how entwined it was with that spirit, separating the two without destroying anything won’t be easy. It would be--I don’t want to say ‘impossible’, but--”

“I’ll do it,” Junhui said, and he sounded steadfast.

“Okay,” Seungkwan said, staring Junhui down for just a moment more before breaking eye contact. “I need to scrub that salve off you Wonwoo, and Vernon’s grabbing some clothes for you to wear. Then I want you to go home, and I want you to sleep.”

“But--” Wonwoo started. He only had two months left; he didn’t want to waste time sleeping.

“No buts. Doctor’s orders,” Seungkwan said. When he saw that the words weren’t enough to weaken Wonwoo’s protests, he sighed. “Listen; you’re going to pass out some point soon. Your body is exhausted right now. I’d just rather you do it in your own bed, okay?”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Seungkwan and Chan helped Wonwoo to a tub, and they cleaned him off, both the thick salve and what Wonwoo had to assume were a couple of layers of his skin coming off in the water. He tried not to think about it too hard, too tired to be embarrassed by Vernon helping him get dressed. He felt very scrubbed and pink but clean when he reemerged, Junhui in the living room, seemingly waiting for him. 

“Do you need help back home?” Seungkwan asked.

“I’ll help him,” Junhui cut in, before Wonwoo had the chance to answer. “I’ll make sure he gets back.” 

The wary look in Seungkwan’s eye was back, offering up Chan as an escort--and Chan agreeing to do it--but at Wonwoo’s assurance that it would be fine, relented and let them leave. It wasn’t really that Wonwoo trusted Junhui that explicitly, but he had something he needed to do, and knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to if Seungkwan sent someone to walk him home.

“We need to make a stop,” Wonwoo told Junhui as soon as they set off. 

“But--”

“It’s on the way, I promise.” Wonwoo didn’t think he’d ever felt this weary, but this was important. The first beams of sunlight had begun cutting across the sky. “It won’t be long.” 

He’d thought he would have to knock on Jihoon and Seokmin’s door, would have to wake them up, and apologize for the interruption. To his surprise, he found Jihoon sitting in a chair outside, a chunk of wood in one hand and a small knife in the other, fiddling with the wood without actually working on it, slivers from the block falling carelessly into his lap. He seemed to see the question in Wonwoo’s eyes as he approached, answering it without Wonwoo even needing to ask.

“Somehow, it’s harder to sleep without Hoshi laying on my face and getting cat hair in my nose,” he said, his tone dry, and despite himself, Wonwoo smiled. Jihoon looked like he hadn’t slept much at all, and was looking over Wonwoo with a frown. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally asked, and while the question was blunt, it was also heavy with concern. 

“I, uh.” Wonwoo wasn’t sure how to put it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and nearly losing his balance in the process, Junhui reaching over quickly to steady him. Jihoon watched the action with uneasy eyes. “I got attacked.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed. “What?” 

The best he could, Wonwoo relayed an abridged version of his evening to Jihoon, who simply sat there, wide-eyed. 

“And--I know it’s a big request, because Seokmin was planning on using it tomorrow to look for Hoshi and Shua, but--”

“You can use the tracking necklace, Wonwoo.” Jihoon was already getting to his feet. “Of course you can use it. Hold on.”

Jihoon disappeared into his house, Wonwoo glancing over to see Junhui looking at him questioningly. He blinked, his eyes big, looking so much like Jun in that moment that Wonwoo almost couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. 

“Seokmin and Jihoon have this necklace… thing,” Wonwoo said. “I don’t know if it’ll be possible, but we might be able to use it to track my soul down. It might be able to point us in the right direction.”

Junhui gave a nod, looking about to speak when Jihoon reappeared. He didn’t just come back with the necklace, though; he had a bleary Seokmin with him, who squinted at Wonwoo for a moment before wrapping him up in a quick but gentle hug.

“Are you okay?” he asked Wonwoo, his voice equally rough with sleep and teary concern, and Wonwoo nodded into his shoulder. 

“As okay as I can be,” he answered, and Jihoon put the necklace into his hands. 

“I don’t really know how it works,” he explained, gesturing to his half-asleep husband. “Seokmin does.” 

Wonwoo turned to Seokmin, who was rubbing at his eyes. He blinked at Wonwoo a couple of times, as though to draw him into focus, his voice a bit less emotional and a bit more serious when he spoke again. 

“Jihoon said you need to find your soul?” he asked, and Wonwoo nodded.

“I--yes. Seungkwan said some of it was being carried in my bloodstream, so I thought maybe, if I…” 

Seokmin nodded in understanding. “Here; come in.”

The four of them ushered themselves inside Jihoon and Seokmin’s shop, then Jihoon handed his carving knife over. Seokmin took it, then held his hand out to Wonwoo in request.

“I’ll prick your finger,” Seokmin said. “It’ll hurt, but we’ll only need a little bit of blood, okay?”

“Okay,” Wonwoo said, extending his hand out for Seokmin to take. With Jihoon holding the locket open, Seokmin took Wonwoo’s pointer finger gently in his nondominant hand. Wonwoo could feel Junhui hovering just behind him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seokmin said quietly, and despite how he winced as he pricked Wonwoo’s finger, his hands were steady. Wonwoo wanted to wave off Seokmin’s apology, wanted to tell him that this small sting of pain was nothing compared to what he’d already been through tonight, but he didn’t want to worry Seokmin, so he kept his mouth closed. Jihoon caught the drops of blood carefully, closing the locket. He handed it to Seokmin, who slipped the chain around Wonwoo’s neck. 

“It might need some time to adjust, but you should be able to feel it soon,” Seokmin told him. “It’ll be like a tug, sort of. You’ll just… Know which way to go. It’s a tricky bit of magic, but I promise you it’s accurate.” 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo said, and Seokmin stepped forwards, gripping him in another hug that had Wonwoo swaying on the spot, not realizing until he was lifted slightly off his feet by Seokmin’s concerned affection that he was very close to completely toppling over. Seungkwan’s warning that he was going to pass out was suddenly at the forefront of his mind, and Wonwoo knew he needed to go home. 

He was surprised when Jihoon hugged him too, but Junhui seemed to notice Wonwoo’s weak state, wrapping an arm around him to keep him on his feet as they started home.

“I’m going to--” Wonwoo said, but Junhui seemed to know what he was going to say then too, taking him straight to his bed, all but carrying him now, and laying him down.

“You’re alright.,” Junhui said quietly.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo murmured. His body had never felt so heavy. “Thank you.” 

The blackness closed in before his head hit the pillow.

When Wonwoo woke up, the room was dim with evening light. It was disorienting, not the complete pitch blackness he was used to. There was a soft weight pressed into his side though, Wonwoo glancing down to see Jun there, warm and fuzzy, curled under Wonwoo’s arm with his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo thought that it should feel strange to have Jun snuggled up to him now that he knew Jun was also an actual human person, but it didn’t. Instead, he pulled Jun in a bit closer and the cat, his eyes still closed, cheek pressing into Wonwoo’s neck now, began to purr. 

His entire body felt incredibly heavy, Wonwoo knowing that if he closed his eyes, he could probably fall back asleep. Then he remembered that he shouldn’t, that he couldn’t, that he didn’t have the luxury of time, and he tried to sit up instead.

The hole in his chest burned sharply as he moved and he cursed out loud, which woke Jun. The cat pressed his forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder, an action that Wonwoo knew was meant to be a comforting one. Again, it wasn’t strange, not until Jun hopped down from the bed, and turned quickly into Junhui. They were both quiet, looking at each other. The angles of Junhui’s face were striking in the dusk of the room, a sharp nose and a sharp jaw, and Wonwoo found himself simply staring for a moment.

“How long was I asleep?” Wonwoo decided to ask.

“We came back from Seungkwan’s yesterday,” Junhui said. “And it’s already evening. The sun is setting now.” 

Wonwoo cursed again. 

“Seungkwan said you needed to eat.” The words were sudden, like Junhui had just remembered them. “Vernon brought food. I’ll warm it on the stove for you.”

“That’s not--” Wonwoo tried to tell Junhui that he didn’t need to, that it wasn’t necessary, but Junhui talking about eating had Wonwoo realizing how incredibly hungry he was, and he still didn’t feel like he could sit up. So he just let Junhui go, who wasn’t really listening to him anyway, hearing him clanging around in the kitchen. Even with that noise, the house still felt too quiet. Wonwoo’s chest ached again, but he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was a physical one or not. 

Junhui returned with a bowl of food and spoon in one hand, a mug in the other, looking a little sheepish and a little confused. Even in his hungry, exhausted state, the expression struck Wonwoo as a bit endearing.

“I--here. I hope it’s okay.” He frowned down into the bowl. “I don’t really know what this is.” 

That didn’t bode well. Wonwoo wasn’t keen on trying to sit up on his own again, having to swallow his pride and ask, weakly, 

“Could you help me sit up?” 

“Oh!” The word was muted but Junhui’s face was expressive, his eyebrows raising and his mouth opening, and he placed down the things he was holding, hurrying to the bedside. Once Wonwoo was propped up on pillows he was given the food, and he realized he didn’t really know what it was either. Some kind of bland mush, probably easy to eat on purpose. But it didn’t really taste bad--though Wonwoo had the thought that he might just be too hungry to truly tell--and knowing Seungkwan, was probably packed with all sorts of vitamins. 

Like Seokmin had said, he could feel the tug of the necklace now. The locket was sitting under his shirt and against his skin, right at the dip of his sternum, and it was urging him forward; up from bed, out the door, and to the east. 

“When are we going to leave?” Wonwoo asked Junhui. Junhui was sitting on the foot of his bed, legs crossed, and had been watching him the whole time. It was another one of those things that Wonwoo felt he ought to find strange about Junhui, but didn’t. It was almost calming instead, the idea that Junhui was here to simply be in his presence.

“We?” Junhui echoed, after blinking at him. “Where are you going?” 

“To find my soul, right?”

“Wonwoo, you’re not coming.” 

That was the first time Junhui had said his name, and Wonwoo liked the way his accent curled the sounds in his mouth. It was almost enough to distract from what Junhui had said. 

“No, I am,” Wonwoo told him. “I’m the one with the locket. I have to come.” 

“Can’t I wear it?” 

“No.” Wonwoo reached up and spread a hand over his collarbones, covering the chain sloping down his chest. Junhui could easily take the necklace from him, but Wonwoo wanted to be out there with him, wanted to come along. He decided to lie, just a little bit. “It’s my soul, and my blood. It’ll only work if it’s me.” 

Junhui stared at him for a long moment. Wonwoo stared back. 

“Okay,” Junhui finally said. “I need to go do something then.” 

“Hold on,” Wonwoo said quickly, because Junhui had stood to walk out, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.” Junhui paused in the doorway. “But I’ll come back before then. Rest some more.” 

Then he was gone, Wonwoo gripping tight to the chain of the necklace with a slow breath of relief. He couldn’t really rest though, wanting to get his dishes into the sink, and to change into his own clothes. He laid there for nearly an hour before deciding to try standing from bed, giving himself a murmured pep talk as he started to move. Getting up was a struggle, but he breathed through it. He needed to be able to do this. 

Walking truly wasn’t too bad, as long as he didn’t breathe too deeply, or too shallowly, or move anything above his legs. The skin across his back felt very dry and tight, like if he twisted his shoulders it would crack, which made changing out of Vernon’s clothes difficult. He had to stop intermittently as he searched his closet and grip the wall, shivering and simply wanting to get dressed. He’d managed to pull pants on when he wanted to sit back down, swaying on his feet, his balance shifting backwards. He was about to resign himself to the fact that he was going to fall to the floor when he felt a weight against his back. 

It was startling, but Wonwoo was more relieved than anything else as he glanced up to see Junhui, letting his balance fail him completely. Junhui’s chest was big and warm and comforting and really, more than anything, Wonwoo wanted to curl up against it. He tried, though, to push the thought aside; Junhui was supposed to be the cat between the two of them. 

“Careful,” Junhui said softly, an arm coming up to hold Wonwoo’s bicep. Somehow, it was that touch--maybe it was the skin on skin contact--that reminded Wonwoo that he didn’t have a shirt on. He tried quickly to shift his weight, to lift up off Junhui and steady himself. 

Junhui pulled a sweater from his closet and helped him tug it on, getting Wonwoo back to sit on his bed. 

“We have transportation for tomorrow,” Junhui told him. “For… Wherever we need to go. I’ll finish getting things ready, and we’ll leave in the morning.” He looked over Wonwoo again. “You should sleep.”

“But I just woke up,” Wonwoo protested, Junhui giving him a look. A reprimanding look that Wonwoo did not much appreciate. “...Hey. I don’t need to take that from you, too.” 

Despite what Wonwoo felt was the extremely solid logic of “I just woke up”, Junhui still made sure that he got in bed and laid down. Then Wonwoo was forced to admit that maybe Junhui did have a point; it was dark in his room from being dark outside, and all too soon, Wonwoo’s eyes closed, and he was asleep. It was dawn when he woke, and again he had Jun tucked under his arm, and the desire to go back to sleep was so strong it was almost painful.

“Hey,” he said instead. He hadn’t thought to ask if Junhui could understand him while as a cat or not, so he set the answer at a solid maybe, reaching to rub the side of his curved finger gently against Jun’s forehead. “We need to get up, don’t we?”

At Wonwoo’s contact, Jun let out a small trill of a chirp. He stretched long before finally opening his eyes, the kaleidoscope of amber visible for just a moment before giving Wonwoo a long, sleepy blink. They really were beautiful eyes.

Junhui had prepared them completely for the next day. There were bags by the front door, and food ready to be eaten in the kitchen, the real surprise coming in the form of two large deer tethered to one of the rails of Wonwoo’s porch. Junhui situated their bags on the animals first, then hoisted Wonwoo up. Wonwoo didn’t feel like he’d done too poor of a job scrambling onto the animal’s back, considering everything, but Junhui’s much more graceful mount was immediately embarrassing. 

Junhui was looking at him again. “You’re leading the way,” he reminded Wonwoo. Wonwoo closed his eyes, feeling for the necklace’s tug again. It was taking them straight out of town. He set the direction, and they were off.

As soon as they left the path that led away from the alcove of houses and shops that Wonwoo called home, the trees thickened immediately. It had been years since Wonwoo had traveled into the forest, and he wished he felt better, so he was more able to appreciate the beauty of it, how lush and green everything was. The morning sun was bright, beaming through the trees and dappling everything underneath with gold, and Wonwoo found himself glancing over at Junhui, at how the sunlight and shadows danced across his face as he moved. 

Junhui caught Wonwoo staring, looking over. Wonwoo half expected Junhui to say something, but when Junhui simply stared back, Wonwoo caught himself thinking that he really should know better by now. Which was a strange thought in and of itself, because considering everything, he didn’t really know Junhui well at all. 

“So, what do you do?” Wonwoo found himself asking. Then, when he realized that was a bit of a dumb question, “On a normal day, when you’re not doing… this.” He gestured around, trying to encompass the whole situation with a sweep of his arm. 

“Oh, I’m a curse-breaker,” Junhui said after a moment. “On contract, usually.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be.” Junhui gave a nonplussed shrug. “I’ve almost died… four times, I think? That I can remember.” 

“Oh.” Wonwoo couldn’t even imagine that. “This is my first near death experience. Can’t say I’m enjoying it.” 

That made Junhui laugh a bit, and the way he met Wonwoo’s eyes, a smile on his face, sent a strange sensation through Wonwoo’s chest that might’ve been the injuries, and might not. 

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” he said, “but I’ve made it through every one of those situations. We’ll make in through this one too, Wonwoo.” 

His name again. Wonwoo had the sudden, strange ache to hold Junhui’s hand. It wasn’t possible, with how they were so far apart, but he realized in surprise that if he had been close enough, he would have reached over to do it. 

Thanks to the sleep he’d gotten, Wonwoo had woken up feeling much better than he had the day before. The necklace gave no indication of distance, just a persistent tug that Wonwoo used to aim his deer in what he hoped was the right direction. He felt himself fading fast, intermittently cold before his whole body broke out with sweat, his eyelids burning with fever. He couldn’t breathe too deeply, partially because he was afraid to cough with the bandages covering his chest, and partially because the muscles in his chest didn’t seem to want to let him, didn’t quite seem able to tense that hard with how worn out his body was. 

They got down to eat, and when Wonwoo was tasked with remounting his deer he was surprised by an ache in his knees, ankles, and elbows. Almost all of his joints hurt, and Wonwoo hoped it was from the riding he was doing, how he hadn’t ridden anything in years. He couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t, though. 

He and Junhui talked casually from time to time, but much of the ride was silent; Wonwoo was quiet by nature, and Junhui didn’t really seem like one to strike up a conversation. It was nice though, Wonwoo correcting their course every once and a while, Junhui pulling his deer up so they could be side by side. 

At the first few streaks of orange sunset, Wonwoo felt himself take a turn. The drop in his stomach almost felt physical, and he swayed in his seat, black dotting his vision. 

“Wonwoo?” Junhui’s voice was sharp, and Wonwoo felt a hand on his shoulder. The black spots were just growing, oozing together like ink when Wonwoo tried to blink them away. He hoped desperately that he wasn’t going blind.

“I’m--I just…” Wonwoo couldn’t feel his legs anymore. 

“Wonwoo!” 

The shout felt like a distant echo, ringing in Wonwoo’s ears as the rest of the world went completely black. 

Waking up was a surprise. Wonwoo had never felt himself pass out so completely like that, and he’d been half convinced that he was dying. What was more surprising though, was that he wasn’t alone; a very curious man was peering over him, and Wonwoo had absolutely no idea who he was.

Eyes not leaving Wonwoo’s face, in a voice offensively loud, the man yelled out, “His eyes opened!” 

Wonwoo flinched away from the sound, a sting of pain going through his head, and the man winced a little, patting Wonwoo’s shoulder in apology. It was weird for two reasons, partially because Wonwoo was laying on his back, and partially because this man was still a stranger, and was touching him. Thankfully, the head pain went away. 

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.” Wonwoo tried to look around. He was in a house he didn’t recognize either, and the place looked very fancy, all nice wood and high ceilings. The room itself was small, and seemed a bit plain; Wonwoo was laying on a thin cotton mattress, a thick quilt pulled up to his chin. 

A door to his left burst open, three things rushing in. One of them, thankfully, was Junhui. The other two had Wonwoo’s breath hitching in his chest; Hoshi and Shua. Shua was meowing at him, the sound soft and insistent, while Hoshi was already purring, stepping across his stomach to rub against his face, effectively getting ginger hair in his nose. 

“Where am I?” Wonwoo asked Junhui, who was doing a sweep over Wonwoo’s body with his eyes. “What happened?” 

“First answer is, you’re in my house.” Another figure stepped through the door, a second man that Wonwoo didn’t know. He walked in casually, an eyebrow raised as he looked down at Wonwoo. “And secondly… You’re seriously hurt, my friend.”

“I know that,” Wonwoo answered, trying not to sound too petulant. “Who are you?”

“The greatest sorcerer alive, depending on who you ask.” The man crouched to extend his hand and Wonwoo, feeling like he didn’t have much of a choice, shook it. The action made the joints in his elbow ache. “Yoon Jeonghan.” 

“I’m Mingyu!” said the first man, the one who had been watching Wonwoo sleep. He was smiling, and held himself with much less of a grandiose regard. “Are all of these cats yours?” 

“No, but…” Mingyu raised an eyebrow at the negative answer, and Wonwoo knew it must not look convincing, with how Shua had began kneading against his side, and Hoshi was still purring. Then Mingyu’s words fully sank in. “Wait,  _ all?  _ Are there more cats here?”

“There’s like fifty.” Mingyu didn’t sound thrilled about it. “They showed up in the middle of the night. Could you take them home, please?” 

Wonwoo lifted his head, his eyes snapping to Junhui’s, who nodded. 

“They’re all here,” Junhui confirmed. “They’re okay.” 

The relief was palpable, Wonwoo letting his eyes fall closed. He grabbed at Hoshi and gave him a small squeeze, despite knowing that the cat wouldn’t like it; sure enough, Hoshi gave a protesting meow and struggled free, Wonwoo loosening his arms to let him. Then he extended a hand, asking,

“Can someone help me up? I want to see them.” 

As Junhui had said, all of the cats were here. Some were happy to see him and some watched him with lazy eyes, but he went to them each in turn, petting them and talking to them and looking them over. It wasn’t just Wonwoo’s cats, though; it was all of the cats from town, and they had sprawled themselves all over Jeonghan’s house, in the grass and trees surrounding it. The nearest place of protection, Wonwoo thought, if this Yoon Jeonghan was as good of a sorcerer as he said he was. Protection from Wonwoo himself. 

Wonwoo felt Jeonghan’s eyes on him as he went around, but he didn’t speak up, so Wonwoo didn’t say anything either until he’d seen all of his cats, returning inside and sitting back down. He felt a bit winded. 

“Sorry to intrude,” he said. Jeonghan waved a hand.

“It was your friend that brought you here,” he said, nodding to Junhui. “In a way, I guess. He found the house, and then led us to you. So technically, Mingyu brought you here. Can any of your other pets transform too, or is he just special?”

Wonwoo glanced quickly at Mingyu, who gave him a friendly wave. Then he realized that Jeonghan had just called Junhui his pet. Junhui wasn’t denying it either, simply sitting on the floor, his legs bent under him and his arms crossed to tuck his hands into his sleeves. 

“We’re not--he isn’t--” Wonwoo willed himself not to stammer, not wanting to sound stupid. “He does that all on his own.” 

“Really?” Jeonghan asked, surprise in the way his eyebrows tilted; Mingyu, meanwhile, let out what could only be described as a full body pout-and-moan. 

“See? I told you that turning people into animals is weird.”

“Shut up, you liked it,” Jeonghan said quickly. “So, what magic can you do, then?”

“None,” Wonwoo responded. “I can’t do any.”

“None?” Jeonghan blinked at him. “That makes this much more complicated, then.” 

“What?” Wonwoo asked. “What’s complicated?”

“Well, if you can’t do magic, that means you didn’t summon that spirit that’s so kindly decided to help you self-destruct,” Jeonghan said. “ So I can’t ask you what its motive is.” 

“Motive?” 

“Judging by the marks inside your chest, you had a vengeful spirit in there.” 

“Vengeful?” Wonwoo asked. Mingyu got up and stepped from the room, while Jeonghan fixed him with a look. 

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?” he asked. 

“Maybe.” 

“Fine,” Jeonghan sighed. “From the looks of things--especially the extent of the physical damage, and yes I did look under your bandages, they got dislodged while Mingyu was carrying you--you’ve had a vengeful spirit entwined very closely with your soul for upwards of ten years now. If you didn’t summon it, then it didn’t belong to you. Which, honestly, makes you a lot less stupid than I originally thought.”

“You thought I was stupid?”

“I thought you were keeping the spirit on purpose, and would, I don’t know, send it after people or something,” Jeonghan said with a flippant wave of his hand. “Which… Not a good idea, by the way. Lots of potential for backfire.”

“So… What do you think happened instead? I didn’t even know about the spirit until it actually tried to kill me.” 

That had Jeonghan stopping again. “You didn’t know it was there? Keeping it held back wasn’t what--” Jeonghan gestured to Junhui, “--what he was for?” 

Wonwoo shook his head. Jeonghan couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what Junhui was to Wonwoo, but in all fairness, Wonwoo couldn’t really either.

“I could do magic when I was young,” Wonwoo told Jeonghan. “Then… I don’t know, I hit some kind of block, and it faded away. By the time I was fifteen, I couldn’t do anything.” 

“Nothing significant happened? Nothing that would cause it?”

After some thinking, Wonwoo shook his head. He’d never had any traumatic magical experiences. 

“And you never tried to summon anything? With someone who could do magic, maybe?” 

“I mean, my friend and I would try spells in his mom’s spellbook sometimes, but…” Wonwoo trailed off as Jeonghan sat back slowly, looking over Wonwoo like he was trying to diagnose him. “...What?”

“You don’t remember any of the spells you were trying?”

“Not specifics.” Wonwoo wrapped his arms around himself, feeling defensive; Jeonghan looked at him like he’d just hooked his claws into something, some idea, and Wonwoo didn’t like it. He and his old friend Seungcheol had just had fun, had done harmless things. “I’m sure that nothing said ‘summon an evil spirit’, though. We wouldn’t have done that.”

“It doesn’t always have to be intentional.” Jeonghan’s voice had gone soft. “Things can slip through anyway. How much did you like yourself, Wonwoo?”

“...What?” The question didn’t make sense, but Jeonghan’s tone, strangely sympathetic, had the hair raising on Wonwoo’s arms and the back of his neck.

“At that age. By the time you were fifteen--did you like the person that you were?”

Wonwoo didn’t have to try hard to think back to his teenage years, despite how little he liked to do it. Thinking back to the mentality he’d had, when he was a little too old to still be considered a kid, the growing pains sharp and painful. The room was completely silent. As always, Junhui was staring at him.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t.” 

Jeonghan gave a small nod. He didn’t look surprised.

“Tea?” Mingyu burst in, loud and smiling, holding a tray with a teapot, cups, and sliced fruit on a tray. Wonwoo saw a small smile curl Jeonghan’s lips as he watched Mingyu enter. “I don’t know if you guys like fruit, I cut up a couple different kinds, but we have other--”

He cut himself off in surprise when Junhui hopped to his feet, popped a grape into his mouth, and sat back down all in one fluid motion, one cheek bulging. It was so ridiculous that Wonwoo almost laughed, the awkwardness in the room dissolving completely, and Mingyu just looked down at him for a moment before extending the tray down. Junhui took another grape. 

“My parents got me cats, though, once my magical abilities disappeared,” Wonwoo said. It was easier to talk, now that the mood was a bit lighter. “They were supposed to act as basic protection, but they really turned everything around.” 

“They probably did their job well,” Jeonghan said. “You were still sick often though, weren’t you?”

Wonwoo nodded. 

“The spirit was probably drawn in by your energy, stuck around to see if you wanted to use it, and then the cats kept it suppressed--along with any dormant magic you might have had stored in you--and it couldn’t escape,” Jeonghan said, his voice slow, like he was thinking and speaking at the same time. “And by the way it attacked you once it was free enough, I’m guessing it didn’t like being trapped very much. Who in your life would it want to hurt?” 

“Someone in my life?” All of Wonwoo’s cats were safe in Jeonghan’s house, and his friends were back in town. His parents had moved south, and his brother had moved with them. “I don’t think--the spirit is traveling east right now, I don’t have any…” 

When it hit him, it hit him hard. He’d lived in the east growing up. He didn’t have any family there anymore, and hadn’t visited physically in years, but he and Seungcheol still passed letters every couple of weeks, and if Seungcheol had never left home… Seungcheol had been the one to help summon the thing in the first place.

“What?” Junhui asked, his voice quiet.

“I know where it’s going,” Wonwoo said.

“And how many days ago did this happen to you?” Jeonghan asked, gesturing with a hand to the general state of Wonwoo’s body.

“Three.”

“We need to go, then.” Jeonghan swept himself to his feet. “It’s probably already there.” 

Wonwoo was glad for Jeonghan’s ability to quickstep, getting them to the entrance of his hometown in seconds. He didn’t so much like how much it made his stomach lurch, dropping to his knees and trying hard not to dry heave. Junhui knelt quickly to one side of him, Mingyu on the other. He didn’t want either of them to touch him, but both of them did; Junhui rubbed at his back with just his fingertips, the touch gentle, tracing unfamiliar patterns across Wonwoo’s shoulder blades. Mingyu simply put his hand on Wonwoo’s arm, and somehow, both of the gestures were equally comforting. Mingyu’s, though, had a supernatural feel to it, his tone more clinical when he asked,

“Better?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo still had to swallow a couple of times, but he was able to get to his feet. 

“Oh, right. You’re a nonmagic user. With this whole spirit thing being attached to you, I keep forgetting.” Jeonghan rolled his sleeves up. “Quickstepping may cause nausea and vertigo to those not accustomed to methods of magical travel.” 

“Thanks.” At Wonwoo’s dry tone, Jeonghan snorted out a laugh.

“Can you feel it?” Junhui asked Wonwoo quietly, and Wonwoo realized that he could. They must be much, much closer to the spirit; the necklace’s tug was considerably stronger now, Wonwoo having to resist the urge to actually drag his feet in the right direction.

“What’s he talking about?” Jeonghan asked, but didn’t wait for an answer; he’d spotted the chain around Wonwoo’s neck, pulling the necklace out and holding it. “Oh, this is  _ fascinating,”  _ he said, and part of Wonwoo couldn’t wait to tell Seokmin that the--self-proclaimed, but still--greatest sorcerer alive was taken with the trinket he’d made. “And it works?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo pointed. “It’s over there.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

They didn’t have to walk far. The surroundings came back to Wonwoo the further into town he walked, and with how directly to Seungcheol’s old house their path was leading, Wonwoo’s heart began to sink with the thought that they were too late. The spirit had made it to Seungcheol’s house already, and absolutely nothing good would be waiting for them there.

It was a shock, then, when Mingyu bodily ran into Seungcheol as they were crossing a back road. Wonwoo didn’t realize it at first; it wasn’t until he and Mingyu knelt to help with the produce that had spilled from the man’s arms that Wonwoo got a look at his face. He stared, the man noticing him staring and giving him a questioning glance back.

“Seungcheol?” 

He didn’t look much different than he had as a kid, truth be told. He’d grown well into a handsome man, with the features of his face that had been a bit accentuated as a kid--his heavy eyelids and full lips--fitting well on his face now. They were still familiar enough, and those ears were something Wonwoo would recognize anywhere.

“Wonwoo?!” Seungcheol’s surprise was even greater than Wonwoo’s was, and Wonwoo felt himself swept into a crushing hug, biting back a whine of pain as Seungcheol squeezed him. Seungcheol had always been strong. Wonwoo was glad to see that hadn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” 

“Have you been home yet?” Wonwoo asked back, not having time to respond to or return pleasantries. Seungcheol noticed, clearly thrown by his concerned expression, his face falling immediately.

“...Is something wrong?” he asked hesitantly. “What’s wrong?” He seemed to remember, then, that they weren’t alone. “Who are these people?” 

“Have you been to your house today?” Wonwoo asked again. After a slow moment--probably to wait for Wonwoo to answer him, and realizing that he wouldn’t, and wondering again what could be so wrong--Seungcheol shook his head.

“Not since this morning. I was headed there now, I’ve been out all day--”

“Good.” Wonwoo tightened the grip he had on Seungcheol’s arm. “You can’t… You can’t go home right now. You should find somewhere safe, and you should hide there.” 

“What in the hell are you talking about? Why are you here, Wonwoo?” 

“I have good reason to believe that you and your friend summoned a vengeful spirit ten years ago, and that spirit now wants to kill you.” Jeonghan’s words were blunt, looking almost annoyed at Seungcheol’s demands for information and deciding to give it all at once. It wasn’t incredibly tactful, but they didn’t have much time, and Seungcheol stared Jeonghan in the face for a solid ten seconds. Then he looked to Wonwoo, half for confirmation and half in disbelief.

“He’s right,” Wonwoo decided to say. He lifted up the tracking necklace. “We’ve been following it the past two days and it’s here, I think it’s already in your house--” 

At those words, the produce fell from Seungcheol’s arms again, and he was running. Not away, like Wonwoo had told him; he was going full-tilt towards his house instead. Wonwoo yelled after him, Mingyu bolting in his direction, his height giving him a great advantage as he caught up and reached out, grabbing hard on Seungcheol’s arm. The whiplash from Seungcheol’s refusal to stop until he was physically forced to by Mingyu’s dug-in heels almost knocked the both of them down. 

“Let me go!” Seungcheol yelled, his voice almost a growl. He lashed out in Mingyu’s direction, red sparks flying from his fingertips, sparks that Jeonghan sent back at Seungcheol’s face with a flick of his hand. Seungcheol winced and hissed, glaring in Jeonghan’s direction, and Wonwoo didn’t want the situation to escalate. 

“Seungcheol, it’s not safe, that thing almost  _ killed  _ me--”

“My grandmother’s still home!” Desperation was thick in Seungcheol’s voice, and instead of trying another spell he punched hard at the arm Mingyu was holding him with; Mingyu grunted and winced, grabbing tight to Seungcheol’s shoulders with his other hand and forcing Seungcheol’s arm behind his back. Despite being trapped, Seungcheol still writhed, glaring at Jeonghan now. “I have to get her out, I have to help--”

Jeonghan let out a weary sigh. Mingyu’s eyes were fixed on him as he held Seungcheol in place, clearly waiting for instruction, while Jeonghan looked Seungcheol over.

“How strong is this thing?” he asked. He was still looking at Seungcheol, but the question wasn’t to him. It was to Junhui, and about the spirit. Somehow, Junhui seemed to know that. 

“Very,” Junhui answered.

“I’m really not in the mood to fight today.” Despite these words, Jeonghan was rolling up his sleeves, and he let his eyes fall closed. “Fine. Save your grandmother, if you have to. But Mingyu is going to help you, and you’re not going to enter the house until I let you. Okay?” 

Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan like he’d absolutely lost it. “If you think I’m going to let you--”

“Seungcheol, please,” Wonwoo said quickly. Though their friendship had faded over the years that Wonwoo hadn’t visited, he hoped that the letters they still passed every couple of months would be enough to get his old friend to listen to him. “You know me. I wouldn’t ask anything from you that I didn’t believe, but… they’re here to help. We have to trust them.” 

After a moment of searching his face, Seungcheol gave a slight nod and stopped his struggling. Wonwoo let out a breath of relief and after another moment, Mingyu let him go.

“Someone lead the way,” Jeonghan requested with a flippant wave of his hand. A block later, Seungcheol’s house came into view, looking exactly the same as Wonwoo remembered it. The spirit was inside, Wonwoo was sure of it; the necklace was lifting completely off his neck now, and he had to stick it back into his shirt for fear that it would come off and fly away.

Jeonghan made all of them pause when they reached the short set of steps that led up to the front door. He climbed them himself, approaching slowly, all of them watching him as he placed his palm against the wood of the door. 

“It’s inside,” he said. “It...” Jeonghan turned to Seungcheol, an eyebrow raised. “Are you sure you have to do this? You can’t go immediately to the nearest temple and hide?” 

“You can’t stop me.” Seungcheol had a determined set to his jaw that Wonwoo recognized from childhood. “You can’t, and neither can your overgrown guard dog.”

“I’m pretty sure he can.” Jeonghan’s voice was flippant, and Seungcheol opened his mouth, but Jeonghan continued before he could speak. “Fine. But Mingyu, help him. She’s…” He clicked his tongue, pressing his hand to the door again, his face slightly scrunched in concentration. “She’s upstairs. And be careful; she’s very old. Let’s go.” 

Wonwoo’s heart was pounding, not sure he was ready to see this shadow again as Jeonghan swung the front door open. He definitely wasn’t ready for how immediately the dark shape threw itself through the doorway; it was on them all in an instant, one hand still curled around the white glow that was winding up its arm, the other outstretched in Seungcheol’s direction. Wonwoo wanted to yell a warning, but felt he couldn’t move, and Jeonghan shouted a curse as he flung his hand out to meet the spirit’s. 

A lot of things happened at once. Mingyu grabbed at Seungcheol’s arm, yanking him out of the way and up the stairs at the same time, the two of them disappearing inside of the house. Red-hot chains burst from Jeonghan’s fingertips, winding tightly around the spirit and bringing it to a complete halt, mere feet from where Junhui and Wonwoo were standing. Junhui threw an arm out to grab at Wonwoo, forcing the both of them back a couple of paces, but it was an action that Wonwoo barely registered; his body was on fire, his arms bound to his sides and his legs bound together. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the strength; instead, his teeth grit so tightly against the pain that he feared his jaw would snap. 

“Wonwoo?” Junhui’s voice was soft in a faint sort of horror. Jeonghan swung his hand down fast, and it felt like a hammer had been slammed into the backs of Wonwoo’s knees. He was grateful his joints didn’t snap, bending instead as he fell. Three feet in front of him, the spirit did the same, the shadow crashing to the dirt. 

“Stop! Stop it!” The burning was worse by the second, so fierce that Wonwoo felt he couldn’t see, and he barely registered Junhui’s shout, despite how loud it was. “You’re burning him!” 

If Jeonghan heard the words, he gave no indication. Words fell from his lips, as fierce as they were foreign to Wonwoo’s ears, and a blue jolt of light flew from his fingertips. The spirit moved as though to block the attack, holding the white-wrapped arm in front of itself, and Wonwoo had a split second of realization, a brief moment of cognizance where he understood that  _ oh, that’s my soul,  _ before the blue jolt connected, and every single muscle in his body seized. 

“Jeonghan!” Junhui shouted again. Jeonghan flung his arm back, and both Wonwoo and the spirit fell face first into the ground. There was an extreme weight on him, pressing into his back, and Wonwoo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think, wanting to beg for something, anything, just to make it stop. Then he felt a squeeze on his hand; it was Junhui, bent over him, holding onto him, still yelling at Jeonghan to relent, his voice loud and desperate. Junhui pushed forwards with a hand, and Wonwoo watched it, watched Jeonghan stumble and fall to one knee. 

It broke Jeonghan’s concentration, the molten chains disappearing from the spirit’s body, and the pain relented so suddenly that Wonwoo felt lightheaded. He gasped in a breath, his mind blank of everything but relief, his grip going slack on Junhui’s hand. In a blink, the spirit had rushed away.

“I almost had it killed!” Jeonghan spat at Junhui as he got to his feet, dusting himself off and whirling on him.

“You almost killed him!” Junhui spat back, and Wonwoo wasn’t sure when his eyes had closed, but when he opened them again, Jeonghan was peering over him. 

“Oh.” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, glancing over Wonwoo’s body. His expression was inscrutable. “That does complicate things a bit.” 

Wonwoo wanted to ask, wanted to know what had happened, but before he could even try to open his mouth, Seungcheol, Mingyu, and a very old lady--being held in Mingyu’s arms and looking completely bewildered--all came outside. Seungcheol’s eyes went huge as he caught sight of Wonwoo. He ran over, skidding to a stop; Wonwoo flinched away instinctively, and Junhui bent over Wonwoo in an almost protective way, as though to keep anyone from touching him. 

“What happened?” Seungcheol asked. He was looking at Wonwoo with fear on his face, and Wonwoo almost didn’t want to know why. “Did it--were you--was there a fire?” 

“...What?” Wonwoo gasped out. Somehow though, fire felt fitting; with the sharp pain gone, Wonwoo could feel a slow but persistent burn throughout his entire body. 

“The chains,” Junhui told him. “They burned you.”

“They didn’t touch me…?” 

“Mingyu.” Jeonghan’s voice was quick, Mingyu nodding. He gently set Seungcheol’s grandmother down, crouching next to Wowoo, reaching under Junhui’s guarding arm to place a hand on Wonwoo’s chest. Soothing cold spread from Mingyu’s palm; instantly, it was easier to breathe.

“Is he going to be okay?” Seungcheol asked. 

“Once he’s well enough, we’ll quickstep back home,” Jeonghan said. He gave Seungcheol a onceover, as though debating how to answer, then his features seemed to soften. “I’ll take care of him. But you and your grandmother need to leave now, and get somewhere safe; we don’t know where that spirit went. We don’t want it coming after you again. Take refuge somewhere protected, and stay there until I tell you otherwise.” 

Wonwoo almost expected an argument out of Seungcheol, if nothing else but because of the commandeering nature of Jeonghan’s orders, but after a moment Seungcheol simply nodded. 

“Okay.” He looked down at Wonwoo again, seeming hesitant.

“Go,” Wonwoo told him. Seungcheol did.

This time, quickstepping back to Jeonghan’s house, Wonwoo didn’t even have the strength to dry heave, simply laying on his back on the floor. 

“That spirit is stronger than I thought.” Jeonghan’s voice was all business, snapped and quick. “I am impressed, now, that its possession attempt did not kill you.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo managed out. 

“You are going to stay here with Mingyu, and he’s going to help you. I’m going to take that necklace, and track the spirit properly. I’d like Junhui to come with me. We need to find it before it actually hurts someone, and now we don’t know where it’s going.” 

“You can’t take it,” Junhui said. “The necklace has Wonwoo’s blood in it, only he can--”

“I lied,” Wonwoo said quickly. “I lied, you can use it, I just…” Admitting the lie was embarrassing, but Wonwoo agreed that the spirit needed to be found, and he could barely sit up; he couldn’t go with them. “I just wanted to come with you.” 

“Wonwoo…” Whatever Junhui was going to say, he didn’t say it; he trailed off and instead helped Wonwoo up into a sitting position, Mingyu kneeling to help make it as gentle as possible. Junhui left his hand on Wonwoo’s chest, his fingers curling over Wonwoo’s shoulder, looking over his face. Wonwoo let himself look back. 

They really were beautiful eyes. 

“We do need to go, and quickly,” Jeonghan said. He sounded almost apologetic. “The necklace, please?” 

Mingyu took the chain from around Wonwoo’s neck, standing up and walking to Jeonghan. Wonwoo watched him, Mingyu’s eyes full of worry as he put it on Jeonghan, slipping it under his robes for him. 

“You know why you can’t come,” Jeonghan said. His voice was soft, and Mingyu nodded. “You have to stay. He needs your help.” 

Mingyu nodded again, but his expression was unchanging, and Jeonghan reached up, brushing his thumb across Mingyu’s cheek before giving him a quick kiss. 

“Be careful,” Mingyu murmured to him when they broke apart. 

“I always am,” Jeonghan responded, taking a step back. Mingyu raised his eyebrows.

“No, you’re not.” 

Jeonghan just winked. Then he tapped Junhui’s shoulder, signaling him to his feet. In a blink, they were gone, the following silence stretching for a long moment. Wonwoo didn’t move his eyes from where Jeonghan and Junhui had disappeared.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” he asked Mingyu.

“I’m going to feed you, and heal you up the best I can,” Mingyu told him, his voice a bit more businesslike as he knelt down to roll up the sleeves of Wonwoo’s sweater. Wonwoo glanced down at the burn marks roped around his arms; the sight of them had him wincing a bit, but thankfully the pain felt a little too dull to truly be that bad. Wonwoo couldn’t decide if it actually didn’t hurt, or if he just couldn’t feel it anymore. “Then, in case they find the spirit again and have to fight it, I’ll need to keep you alive. Anything you want to eat?”

Wonwoo let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes.

After some persuading, Mingyu allowed Hoshi and Shua to come inside. Having them curled on the couch with him, purring and kneading at him, made Wonwoo feel better instantly. He was able to pull himself into a sitting position and properly sip at the soup Mingyu had made him, Mingyu sitting down next to him and placing a hand on him to begin the healing process. Mingyu was clearly stressed about Jeonghan being gone, about Jeonghan going off to fight the evil without him, and Wonwoo wanted to make conversation or distract him in some way, but he’d never been good at talking. 

“So, you’re a healer?” he tried. Mingyu nodded a bit. 

“Healing spells were always easiest for me, so I just leaned into it. Jeonghan hired me as a guard for a job he’d taken, and I didn’t have anything keeping me where I was living at the time, so I moved in for a couple of months. And then… He was really good at getting himself into trouble. So good that sometimes, I still wonder if it was intentional.” Mingyu smiled a bit, shifting the hand he had on Wonwoo’s upper arm. With Mingyu making actual, physical contact, the burns were shrinking in front of Wonwoo’s eyes. “Not that… Not that I ever really wanted to leave.”

“That’s nice.” The response was lackluster, and Wonwoo knew that, but with the small smile on Mingyu’s lips, he didn’t seem to mind. “Still, he seems capable. And Junhui is strong too; they’ll help each other.” 

Mingyu nodded at that. He looked a bit hesitant with his next question, but asked it anyway. 

“So, is he… Are you guys like us? Is he your hot, live-in bodyguard guy?” 

Wonwoo snorted out a laugh at Mingyu’s self-description. 

“I, uh… I don’t know. I didn’t even know he was a human until last week, and if he hadn’t cursed my soul out of my chest, I don’t know if he would have ever talked to me at all.”

It was Mingyu’s turn to laugh. “Not exactly the cutest meeting, then.” 

“Cute?” 

“Well, you think he’s handsome, don’t you?” Mingyu asked, and Wonwoo nearly dropped his spoon. “And he cares for you, I think.”

“He does?”

“He sure stares at you a lot.” Mingyu grinned. “So he likes looking at you, at least.” 

“...stop,” Wonwoo had to say, feeling his face go warm, and Mingyu burst into happy laughter. It may have been at his expense, but the teasing wasn’t mean, and it was nice to see the tension gone from Mingyu’s expression. He was about to respond when a sharp, piercing pain hit his left shoulder, right under his collarbone. It knocked him against the back of the couch, ripping a gasp from him, his body jerking. The bowl of soup fell from his lap, the ceramic smashing against the floor, Hoshi and Shua dashing away.

A low curse fell from Mingyu’s lips and instantly he was leaning over Wonwoo, pressing the flat of his palm to where the pain was the worst, the contact causing it to burn for just a moment. 

“You’re okay.” There was a concerned strain to Mingyu’s voice. Wonwoo had the wild feeling that he’d just been stabbed, been run through, not realizing how real that might be until he glanced down and saw blood trailing bright lines down Mingyu’s forearm. “You’re okay. It’s alright.” 

“They found it,” Wonwoo gasped out, and a second later his head whipped to the side as though he’d been punched in the face. It hurt. It  _ hurt,  _ and more than anything, Wonwoo had an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. He was tired, so tired of this. 

He was hit hard on the back of the head next, pitching forwards towards the edge of the couch. Mingyu managed to catch him before he fell completely, but he still felt dizzy, his ears ringing, wondering briefly if he was going to pass out again. 

“You are  _ infuriating!”  _ came a shout from a room away, and the doors to the living room burst open. Junhui was hurrying in, his face twisted with worry, his legs working quickly. He had a growing welt under his left eye, the skin split but not openly bleeding, and he knelt in front of the couch. When he reached out, Wonwoo took his hand. 

“What happened?” Mingyu asked, Wonwoo glancing up to see Jeonghan striding in. He also looked completely disheveled, and he was angry.

“It destroyed your house,” Jeonghan said, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. “It knocked your whole house to the ground. It was--it was too late by the time we got there, but--”

“It was in town?” Wonwoo asked weakly. Fear shot up his chest, and he looked quickly to Junhui. “Jihoon, Jihoon and Seokmin--”

“They’re okay,” Junhui said. “We told them to get somewhere safe, but they’re okay.” 

“And then it was trying to kill  _ him!”  _ Jeonghan continued, pointing to Junhui. “And he wouldn’t let me curse it!” 

Wonwoo looked over Junhui again. Aside from the swollen injury on his face, his robes were ripped, and he had quickly-darkening bruising all across his throat.

“Did you get hurt?” Junhui asked, his voice quiet.

“I…” Wonwoo wanted to lie, but he still felt a bit dizzy, and the blood down Mingyu’s arm was extremely telling. “I’m okay.” 

“We have to do something,” Jeonghan said. “That thing knows about your connection with Junhui. It’s going to come after him again, and if he’s going to knock me on my ass every time I try to fight back, he’s going to get himself killed.” 

Get himself killed. Junhui was trying to protect Wonwoo at his own expense, trying to keep Wonwoo from getting hurt. Hopelessness washed over Wonwoo instantly.

“Jeonghan.” Wonwoo looked to Jeonghan, and at the sound of his name, Jeonghan looked back. “Next time… Next time, just kill it.” 

“What?” Junhui asked, his voice sharp, at the same time as Mingyu said “Wonwoo--”

“No. It doesn’t matter.” Wonwoo tried to retract his hand, and Junhui just grabbed it tighter. “I’m dying. I’m going to be dead in two months. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me. So just kill it.” 

Jeonghan’s jaw set, but he didn’t look away, steadfast in holding Wonwoo’s gaze.

“No.” Junhui’s voice sounded strangled. “I can’t--I can’t let--”

“It’s not your fault, Junhui.” Wonwoo didn’t want Junhui to feel bad. “This thing was going to come, one way or another. You didn’t let it possess me. You didn’t let it make me hurt my friends. That’s more than I could have asked for. But it’s coming for you, and it could come for so many others, and if I can just stop it, just not let it happen--”

“Wonwoo.” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet. “If it’s what you want, I’ll do it.” 

“No!” Junhui was on his feet instantly. “No, you won’t, I just need to fix it--”

“Seungkwan said it was impossible,” Wonwoo told him. He felt strangely calm now, wanting to steady Junhui instead. “It doesn’t… Trying to do something like that, when all it does it put you in danger--that’s not worth it. Not to me.” 

“But--you--” Junhui seemed unable to speak, Jeonghan placing a hand on his arm. 

“It’s his choice,” he said. His voice was gentle, but Junhui whirled on him. 

“I’m not going to let you kill him,” he growled, his speech thick and strangled, and he hit Jeonghan off him. The action was quick, violent, Mingyu on his feet immediately. Jeonghan simply stared at Junhui, and Junhui stared back. 

The silence was broken by a desperate scratching at the door. Yeowls accompanied seconds after, Wonwoo realizing that it was the cats, wanting to come in, and it sounded like a lot of them. That was concerning, something about it not feeling right, Wonwoo getting up to open the door. 

Every single one of the cats dashed in. Before Wonwoo could even begin at guessing why, something hit him in the back and fell to the floor. The object began to slide across the floorboards between his feet, Wonwoo just barely able to step on it before it slipped away. It was the tracking necklace, the chain of it trapped under Wonwoo’s shoe, straining to get outside. Wonwoo turned to look at Jeonghan, whose hand was up by his neck, looking surprised by the way the necklace had flown off of him. 

“It’s here,” he said, his voice quiet. “It followed us.”

Junhui met Wonwoo’s eyes, then glanced to Jeonghan, and before any of them could react, threw an arm back. Jeonghan went skidding across the room, hitting hard against the back wall. 

“Jun--” Wonwoo started, and Mingyu moved quickly, getting Junhui in a quick bear hug that had his arms trapped to his sides. Junhui made a nondescript sound of protest, and began shifting in Mingyu’s arms; Mingyu had to struggle to hold him as Junhui shrunk down, yeowling and lashing out at him. “Jun!”

Mingyu couldn’t keep him contained, bloody scratches all across his forearms as Jun writhed; as soon as Jun jumped free, he was through the door. Cursing, Wonwoo went after him. 

Junhui shifted back quickly, Wonwoo stuttering to a stop as he caught sight of the spirit. He wondered if Junhui had a plan, because he himself didn’t, watching as Junhui stopped too. To Wonwoo’s surprise, the spirit also stopped when it saw them, the next course of action completely baffling; it turned and dashed away. Wonwoo didn’t understand, didn’t understand why, but then Junhui ran after it, and Wonwoo had a realization. The spirit wanted to hurt Junhui. The spirit knew Junhui wouldn’t hurt it back. The spirit wanted Junhui alone. 

“--but now you’re the one that’s…” Jeonghan was speaking, talking to Mingyu, trailing off when he looked outside. “Where is he?”

Wonwoo pointed, Jeonghan cursed, and together the three of them set off into the woods. 

“You never thought to put a bell on that collar of his?” Jeonghan complained. He was walking at Wonwoo’s side, while Mingyu was running ahead through the trees and doubling back. Mingyu had now run back to the house to retrieve the necklace, and Jeonghan turned to Wonwoo. “How is he going to ‘fix’ this? What is he trying to do?”

Wonwoo explained as quickly as he could about the plan to salvage his soul and replace it in his body. When he was finished, Jeonghan just stared. 

“He does know that in all of history, there have only been seven successful soul transplants, right?” Jeonghan asked. Wonwoo wasn’t sure of what Junhui knew, but that was news to him, so he shook his head. Jeonghan sighed. 

“He’s foolish. So foolish. It is sweet, though.”

Mingyu was running up, placing the quivering necklace in Jeonghan’s hands. 

“It really is impossible then?” Wonwoo asked. Jeonghan rolled his sleeves up.

“Not exactly. Of the seven, I did three of them.” Jeonghan held the necklace by the end of the chain, the locket lifting, pointing them sharply to the left. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long to find him after that, and they were met with the sight of Junhui on the ground, on his knees, blood running down his nose. But he had one arm up, his fingers dug into the white glow around the spirit’s arm. His eyelids were barely open. 

“Junhui?” Wonwoo asked, the edge to his voice more desperate than he’d expected it to be, the words coming out faintly. Despite that, Junhui seemed to hear him, and it was unnerving, the way both Junhui and the spirit turned to him at the same time. 

Junhui was still looking when the spirit hit at him again, snapping his neck to the side in a crack much too loud to be anything but insidious; it was horrible to watch, a gasp wrenching itself from Wonwoo’s lungs, and he ran forwards. 

“No!” The shout was Jeonghan’s, and was just the barest bit of a warning before the ground exploded in front of Wonwoo. The blast knocked him off his feet, doing the same to Junhui and the spirit, sending the three of them all sprawling away from each other. “Don’t get close—”

Wonwoo pushed himself up onto his hands, the air completely knocked out of him. Junhui’s body still where it lay the ground, and the spirit was hovering, a shadow with no object casting it, Wonwoo fully prepared for it to dive at Junhui again and hoping Jeonghan would act before it did. It caught them all off guard though, rushing Wonwoo before anyone could react, almost too fast to be real. Its arm was down his throat and he gagged, its fingers seeming to grasp at the air inside of him, the dark figure sinking down and settling in. 

His body felt like ice, cold from the inside out. Wonwoo felt his limbs shift, on his feet before he realized he was going to move, his arms and legs almost too light. There was something in his mouth, heavy against his tongue, and he wasn’t able to spit it out; he bit down hard instead, and felt something give, felt something split, a thick taste of sulfur filling his mouth. Trying hard not to choke, Wonwoo parted his lips and a liquid, chalky and thick, spilled uncontrollably down his chin and neck. He thought it must be blood, but when he reached down and touched it, his fingers came back dipped in black sludge. 

Mingyu’s face was slack in abject horror. Jeonghan’s face was set, lips pursed and brows furrowed. Junhui was struggling into a sitting position, bleeding and wincing, and Wonwoo wanted to go to him. After what felt like an internal battle with his legs, something eased up, and he did. 

He helped Junhui to his feet and Junhui, eyes still closed and only looking half conscious, slumped against his chest. Wonwoo reached up to thread his fingers through the hair on the back of Junhui’s head. 

“I’m going to help you,” Junhui murmured. So devoted. Like a  _ pet.  _ Wonwoo’s fingers twisted, curling in the hair and yanking his head back. 

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo growled at him, and Junhui stumbled back, his eyes wide and frightened. Before he could get too far, Wonwoo wrapped his fingers around Junhui’s neck, and  _ squeezed.  _

“Wonwoo! Stop!” The voice was Jeonghan’s, loud and sharp in warning, but Wonwoo paid it no mind. Jeonghan was all talk and no texture; he’d missed multiple chances to finish him off, and now Wonwoo knew he wouldn’t do it. He was too soft, and cared too much. “I’ll kill you!” 

“No,” Junhui managed out, the sound a strangled wheeze, and Wonwoo looked down to his face. Junhui’s eyes were wet, shining and pained and desperate as he looked at Wonwoo, his fingers around the hand Wonwoo had around his neck. It felt… It felt  _ good,  _ good to see him like this. This was the man that had helped keep him imprisoned, had damaged him, had nearly  _ destroyed  _ his host at the moment he’d managed to break free.

Junhui writhed under his hands, shrinking down like he’d done with Mingyu, Wonwoo using his free hand to better grab onto him so that he couldn’t slip away. Jun batted at him, near-adorable in the way he kept his claws sheathed, kept himself from causing Wonwoo any more harm. He was so small like this, so easy to twist, so easy to snap and to break. Jun let out an ear splitting yeowl, and while his head was still raised, his front and back legs dropped, losing all of their tension like limbs of a puppet whose wires had been snapped. 

His fingers curling, Jeonghan brought his hands down in Wonwoo’s direction. Cuts appeared across Wonwoo’s forearms and hands, stingingly deep, blood springing up and pouring out immediately. It forced Wonwoo to drop Jun, Jeonghan buffeting him backwards with two strong blows before he could get to the cat’s body. Jun had blood on him now, and Wonwoo couldn’t tell whose it was.

Mingyu rushed him, the action sudden and surprising, the man quicker on his feet than he looked. His punch to Wonwoo’s stomach completely doubled him over, following up with a hard hit to the side of his head that left his vision swimming. For a moment Wonwoo thought he would be able to recover, but dizziness quickly took over, and he fell to his back in the dirt. He was fading, fading fast, but could still feel his limbs moving, pushing himself up as he completely lost consciousness. 

Wonwoo woke to two familiar things, one after the other. The first was a weight on his chest, fuzzy and warm and peacefully asleep. The second was Mingyu’s face, peering over at him, much too close when Wonwoo fully got his eyes open. He was prepared, this time, for the shout. 

“Jeonghan! He’s awake!”

Wonwoo looked at his chest. Jun was there, a soft lump of long tawny fur, curled up comfortably. His breathing was even, and Wonwoo was relieved to see he looked peaceful. Jeonghan strode in quickly, his eyes wary as he approached where Wonwoo was lying. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a beat of silence, and Wonwoo took stock of himself. 

“...Everything hurts,” he finally decided on. Jeonghan didn’t look surprised by the news.

“Full-body exorcisms are known to cause muscle and joint pain,” he said with a shrug. “I was more talking mentally. Feeling particularly vengeful? Murderous, maybe?” 

At those words, everything that had happened rushed back all at once, and Wonwoo felt he couldn’t breathe, suddenly terrified of the way Jun was simply resting on his chest, like Wonwoo hadn’t tried to kill him just minutes--hours? days?--before. He tried to scramble into a sitting position, Mingyu crouching and holding him down with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait, don’t try to move too much,” he said, his voice a forced type of calm. Then, to Jeonghan, “You could have done that better.”

Jeonghan’s expression didn’t much change, and Wonwoo couldn’t properly get the question out.

“Did I--is he--?” 

“He’s alive,” Jeonghan said. “And Mingyu doesn’t think you actually paralyzed him. Or--not permanently. Mingyu thinks he fixed it.”

“Thinks?”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Jeonghan explained. “You’ve been out for nearly three days; we were starting to wonder if you would wake up either. It gave Mingyu a lot of time to heal you though, so I wouldn’t call it time wasted. After those aches go away, you should have a clean bill of health.” 

“But--the soul transplant? You were able to do it?” 

“I didn’t need to.” Jeonghan sat down next to where Mingyu was crouching on the floor; Mingyu teetered a bit on the balls of his feet before sitting down too. “You getting nice and possessed cleared up the pesky problem of getting your soul back inside of you. I just needed to perform an exorcism, and those are significantly easier. Oh, that reminds me; you might be experiencing some back pain, too. That thing was really twisting your spine.” 

That was… Well, it didn’t sound great, but it sounded better than any outcome Wonwoo had been hoping for. For himself, at least.

“Do you really think Junhui will be okay?” he asked Mingyu. Mingyu’s face was apologetic. 

“I’m… I don’t do animal healing,” he said. “We tried looking into ways to force him to change back so I could properly help, but with possible spine damage, it wasn’t safe. So I just tried my best.” 

“Okay,” was all Wonwoo felt he could say, closing his eyes, trying to mentally prepare himself for the worst.

It took a couple hours for Wonwoo to feel okay about dislodging Jun, moving him to the pillow he’d been sleeping on and getting to his feet. Like Jeonghan had said, every part of him ached, but the hollow pit he’d had in his chest was gone, the emptiness filled, and that was a sensation he was glad to be rid of. 

Mercifully, Jun woke later that evening. He looked sluggish, his movements slow, his third eyelids a constant in the corners of his eyes, his ears too warm. Mingyu helped Wonwoo make broth from some leftover chicken, looking wholly confused but eager to learn while Wonwoo got to work trying to care for Jun. 

It took time to work up the courage to pinch the fleshy sections between Jun’s toes. Jun began to swish his tail in irritation as Wonwoo took his back foot in his hand, and at the pinch, chirped in offense and retracted his foot. That reaction meant that Jun wasn’t paralyzed, and a horrible weight lifted itself off Wonwoo’s shoulders. Wonwoo’s bothersome actions prompted Jun to his feet, where he stretched, rubbed himself against Mingyu’s legs, and positioned himself in Wonwoo’s lap before falling asleep again. 

“Why isn’t he transforming back?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo didn’t have an answer, both of them looking to Jeonghan. Jeonghan looked reluctant, and when he finally answered he spoke slowly, like he didn’t want his words to be true.

“Sometimes, if a person is capable of voluntary transformations, a traumatic experience will cause them to revert, or stay stuck in whatever form they were in when it happened,” he said. “Has he ever stayed a cat this long before, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo shook his head, and Jeonghan’s lips pursed. 

After two more days, Wonwoo’s pain was gone, and he began to feel that he truly was overstaying his welcome, deciding that it was time for he and Jun to go back home.

“You can stay until your house is fixed,” Mingyu told him, protesting Wonwoo’s decision to leave. “We talked to your friends; they’re helping rebuild it. The whole town is, so it shouldn’t take too long.” 

“I should help them then,” Wonwoo said. “Truly, I’m thankful, and if there’s ever anything the two of you need, don’t hesitate to ask for it. But I really should be getting back home.” 

He had things to do, and cats to return. He had to find Junhui’s roommate--Minghao, if memory served--and explain the situation. Explain that it was all his fault.

Jun was still moving slowly, and allowed Wonwoo to carry him out to the pack deer they’d rode from town with. All of the cats were excited, Wonwoo surprised when he set out and they followed him. The ride took nearly a day at the pace Wonwoo set, Jun in his lap and dozing more often than not.

He was welcomed warmly by Seokmin and Jihoon, Seokmin still in the middle of hugging him when he realized that his husband had been rushed by Shua and Hoshi, his excited yell loud in Wonwoo’s ear, and Wonwoo couldn’t find it in himself to be upset. The two of them kept him occupied, obviously wanting to know what had happened, but seemed to know better than to ask. Wonwoo let himself be distracted by them, let himself catch up with Seungkwan, who had to look over every inch of him. He was dreading the moment he had to leave, had to find Xu Minghao and talk to him. But once the sun started to set Wonwoo felt he couldn’t stall any longer, bidding his friends a good night and setting out. 

Minghao wasn’t surprised to see him. The first thing Wonwoo found out was that the deer belonged to Minghao, who greeted the large animals before he even saw Wonwoo, thanking Wonwoo for bringing them to him. 

“When Junhui leaves, usually only half of the things he takes with him come back,” he explained. “Where is he? Isn’t he with you?”

Wonwoo, his tongue feeling stuck in his throat, nodded to the small bundle of blankets he’d been holding, having set it down to help Minghao tie his deer up. Minghao crouched, then his face relaxed into a smile. 

“Hey, Jun.”

At the sound of his friend’s voice Jun woke up, his purr loud, pushing his forehead into Minghao’s waiting hand. Minghao picked him up, glancing at Wonwoo. “Want to come inside?” 

The house was small and simply built, small decorative touches on walls and tables. Minghao put himself on the couch with Jun on his lap, scratching at his cheeks and laughing. Wonwoo sat on a nearby chair, unsure of what to do. 

“You don’t want to greet me in person?” Minghao asked Jun, and though Minghao was smiling, Wonwoo felt sick. He knew he needed to tell Minghao, but didn’t know how to breach the topic. Finally, he spoke, too nervous and distracted and upset to realize how tactless he sounded until the words were already out of his mouth. 

“There’s something wrong with him.” 

Minghao, who had Jun cradled in his arms like a baby, glanced up in confusion. Wonwoo had to continue. 

“He--do you know why we went?”

“I knew it was about you,” Minghao responded, giving Wonwoo a once-over. “You were dying. You don’t look like you’re dying.” 

“I’m not. Not anymore.” Wonwoo didn’t know how much he should elaborate. “He was trying to save me. And he did. But…”

Minghao was still petting Jun, who had now gotten himself comfortable in Minghao’s arms and was dozing off again. Minghao seemed nervous though, the apprehension obvious on his face, everything about his posture guarded as he looked at Wonwoo. 

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked. 

“He might be stuck… Like that,” Wonwoo admitted, nodding to Jun. “As a cat, I mean. He’s been like that for nearly a week, and it’s like he doesn’t realize anything is wrong.”

Minghao was simply looking at him. He wasn’t accusing Wonwoo of lying, his expression not one of annoyance or anger, but he didn’t look like he truly believed Wonwoo’s words. 

”He nearly died,” Wonwoo explained. He didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to say the role he’d played in that; not while he was here, sitting in Minghao’s living room. “And--and a sorcerer examined him; apparently there’s this link, some connection between traumatic experiences and transformations.”

Understanding dawned on Minghao’s face, so Wonwoo didn’t try to continue. 

“I’ve… Yes.” Minghao swallowed hard, glancing down at Jun, pulling him in a little bit tighter. “I’ve heard of that before.” 

He didn’t elaborate either, but it was clear that he understood, pulling Jun’s sleeping body close and pressing his forehead to Jun’s. It was awful then, to sit there and watch Minghao mourn the friend that was sleeping in his lap. Minghao didn’t cry, his breathing slow, his eyes closed, pressing his face into Jun’s fur. Wonwoo didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, part of him wanting Minghao to be angry with him, because it was what he deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed out.

Minghao shook his head. “His job was always dangerous,” he said. His voice sounded a bit choked, a bit raw. “I always knew that. I always knew something could happen, every time he left, I just… I should be glad.” He stroked a smooth line down Jun’s back, who let out a rumbling purr and curled in Minghao’s arms. “At least I have this.” 

“I should go,” Wonwoo said hastily, getting to his feet, feeling like if he didn’t leave, he might start to cry. He was almost to the door when Minghao spoke up. 

“Please don’t. You can stay, for tonight. I know you don’t have a place to sleep right now.”

Wonwoo felt hesitant, having planned to just ask if he could sleep on Jihoon and Seokmin‘s couch, then Minghao spoke again. 

“I don’t… I don’t want Jun to leave. But I know he’s going to want to sleep on you.” 

Oh. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Minghao was a very quiet person. It was nice, in a way, to just be in his presence, something Wonwoo hadn’t known he needed. With everything that had happened, then spending his days recovering in the same house as Mingyu and Jeonghan, Wonwoo hadn’t yet been able to get a quiet moment to simply process it all. 

Dinner was comfortable too, but a question had come to Wonwoo’s mind, and he figured that now was as good of a time as any to ask it. 

“Why did Junhui never try to speak to me?”

Minghao glanced up at the question. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know he was human for a long time,” Wonwoo explained. “He knew who I was, but he never talked to me. It doesn’t… It didn’t seem like he didn’t like me though, when we did meet.” 

“He does like you.” Minghao’s words were simple. “The first time we saw you, he was very taken with you, I think.” 

“Oh.” 

“But Junhui is a very shy person,” Minghao continued, glancing over to the cat on the couch. “He claimed not to know what to say. There was once, he saw you in town and just fully ran away. You didn’t notice, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.” 

Minghao began to smile, and Wonwoo laughed too. 

“He could have said something,” Wonwoo said, and Minghao’s smile widened. “It was a strange way to meet him.” 

“He’s a strange person,” Minghao conceded. “But he really does think you’re lovely. And whatever happened to him, if it saved your life… I don’t think he regrets it.” 

Wonwoo was told that he could spend the night in Junhui’s bedroom. The space was clean, the bed made, and Wonwoo had the realization that with how he’d been coming to Wonwoo’s house, Junhui probably hadn’t slept in his own bedroom in a couple of months. Jun had followed Wonwoo to his room, getting up on the bed and looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to lay down. It was strange, how reminiscent it was of before, when Jun was just a cat and Wonwoo just got sick sometimes. Before everything had happened. 

So Wonwoo got in bed, and Jun recognized that it was his bed, burrowing under the covers before climbing himself onto Wonwoo’s chest, Wonwoo folding the blanket down so Jun’s head was poking out. Wonwoo laid there, in Junhui’s bed, in Junhui’s bedroom, in the dark, Jun already dozing on his chest, and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, only knowing he’d done so by waking up. It had to be the middle of the night now, the light from a half-moon streaming through the window by the bed. Wonwoo couldn’t tell why he was awake, feeling disoriented, confused even by where he was until he’d taken a moment to look around. 

Jun was shifting. He was moving in his sleep, stretching, and he rolled completely off of Wonwoo, falling to the side. His fluffy form was hidden by the blankets, and a moment later light began streaming out from under them, so bright in the darkness of the room that Wonwoo had to squint and look away. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, and then he wasn’t alone in the bed at all; Junhui’s long form was half on top of him, in his green silk robes as always, resting on his front, one of his legs between both of Wonwoo’s, his upper body on top of one of Wonwoo’s arms. Wonwoo just blinked at him, staring at his sleeping face, before a small noise forced itself from his throat and Wonwoo was wrapping that arm around Junhui’s waist, feeling nothing but disbelief. Junhui gave a sleepy sigh, his eyes still closed, curling his body towards Wonwoo’s and nuzzling his face into Wonwoo’s neck a bit, like he would do in his cat form when Wonwoo would accidentally wake him in the night. 

Disbelief gave way to complete, devastating relief, and Wonwoo felt he couldn’t breathe, choking on an inhale, the following exhale an uncontrollable sob. He tightened his grip further, curling towards Junhui in return, trying to hug him, trying to hold him, unable not to cry. 

Junhui woke confused, letting out a few small sounds of surprise as he returned to consciousness, but he let Wonwoo clutch at him, rolling onto his back so Wonwoo could lay on him, hugging Wonwoo in return, stroking his back and letting him cry. 

“I’m okay,” he murmured out, and Wonwoo twisted his fingers in Junhui’s robe. “I’m okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo couldn’t get his voice above a whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” 

It took a while for Wonwoo to get his breathing back under control. Junhui just held him the whole time, still looking a bit confused and a lot concerned, and Wonwoo felt he didn’t deserve that worry at all, pulling himself up off Junhui, the blankets falling back as he sat up. Junhui continued to lay there. 

“Are you--” he choked a bit, and had to start again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Junhui nodded, reaching for him; Wonwoo let Junhui take his hand. 

“I’m fine,” Junhui said. “Mingyu fixed everything. It’s like it didn’t even happen.”

“Don’t say that,” Wonwoo said, shaking his head, wiping at his face with his free hand. “You can’t--you can’t say that. It’s not true. You were--for a week, you were--because I--”

“That wasn’t you, Wonwoo.”

“But it was!” Wonwoo tried to pull his hand away. He shouldn’t be touching Junhui. He shouldn’t be allowed to. “It was me. I did that to you. I  _ broke  _ you.” 

“No you didn’t,” Junhui said. His voice was calm, his eyes locked on Wonwoo’s, unwavering. He repeated his words, his tone firm. “That wasn’t you.” 

“But--”

“No.” Junhui squeezed Wonwoo’s hand. “With my job, I’ve dealt with possession before. Evil, evil like that… It doesn’t care about what it’s done. But look at you.” He sat up too, reaching with his left hand, brushing his thumb across the damp skin under Wonwoo’s wet eye. “You care too much.” 

Wonwoo wanted to lean into the touch. He wanted to believe Junhui’s words, wanted to take the dismissal, wanted to let himself be comforted by it. But then he felt it again, the way Jun’s body had twisted in his hands, and he couldn’t.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he murmured. Junhui’s voice matched his in volume, but was steady, sure with conviction.

“I have no reason to be.” 

Wonwoo simply shook his head, and the silence settled between them for a moment. 

“I almost killed you too,” Junhui told him, a kind of forced levity to his voice as he squeezed Wonwoo’s hand again. 

“That wasn’t--that’s not the same.” 

“But you can pretend it was. And then we’ll be even. So you don’t have to feel bad.” 

“That’s not…”

“Wonwoo, you don’t need to feel bad about this.” Junhui found Wonwoo’s other hand, and entwined their fingers on both. “I don’t blame you. I needed… I needed time, but I’m okay. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” 

Wonwoo couldn’t tell if he believed that. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to allow himself to believe that. 

“None of this is anybody’s fault,” Junhui said. “From what happened to you at the beginning of it when you were young, up until now. And a lot of it was hard. But I’m okay and you--you’ve been saved! You have--you have your whole life ahead of you now!” Junhui gave him a smile. “I don’t want you to spend it by trying to carry this guilt. I want you to cherish it.” 

Wonwoo looked down at their hands, and shook his head again.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, and Junhui glanced at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“It shouldn’t be you. You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.” 

Junhui let out a bit of a laugh. “You’re the one that’s crying,” he pointed out, the smile audible in his voice, and Wonwoo couldn’t help it, huffing out a slight laugh too. “Come on, we can talk in the morning. Let’s go back to sleep.” 

Junhui tugged him back down to the bed, and Wonwoo let himself be pulled, let himself lie down, Junhui letting his hands go to curl towards him again. They were facing each other, Wonwoo looking over the lines of Junhui’s face, Junhui letting himself be looked at, giving Wonwoo a long, slow blink. 

They really were beautiful eyes.

Wonwoo reached out, threading his fingers through the hair on the side of Junhui’s head. Junhui shifted towards him. Wonwoo closed his eyes. Junhui kissed him. 

It was a simple kiss, sweet and soft, but it felt like breathing, felt like floating, felt like the last piece of the horrible weight in Wonwoo’s body had finally lifted away. When Junhui pulled back, the smile on his face was so wide that his eyes shut, and he let out a soft noise that almost sounded like a laugh, pushing even closer to put his face in Wonwoo’s neck again. Wonwoo wrapped his arms around him, simply because he could, and then Junhui did laugh.

“This is what it feels like,” he said, and the words didn’t make sense to Wonwoo.

“What?”

“Purring.” Junhui laughed again. “It almost… It almost feels weird, being this happy, and not being able to do it.” 

Wonwoo laughed too, thinking back to all of the times Jun had purred while in his care, while on his bed, while wrapped up in his arms. He pulled Junhui in a bit tighter. 

When he woke up the next morning, he didn’t have a cat on his chest. He had a man in his arms, who still shifted a bit closer when Wonwoo told him good morning, who still made a soft noise when Wonwoo stroked his hair. But when he was awake, Junhui leaned in and kissed him, and Wonwoo kissed him back. 


End file.
